


Flailing Spirits

by Gabu



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Afterlife, Alcohol, Car Accidents, Character Death, Character Study, Death, Drug Abuse, Flashbacks, Gen, Grieving, Implied/Referenced Sex, Major Character Injury, Original Character(s), Platonic Relationships, Self-Harm, Serious Injuries, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, future canon future shmanon, implied PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:32:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 94,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4312341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabu/pseuds/Gabu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little over a year since a car crash claims her life, Wendy Corduroy is summoned back as a ghost with a plea to help a certain first responder come to grips with what he had experienced, and to tell him that it wasn't his fault. The only problem? He has to be the one to initiate contact, and he is terrified of the prospect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone. So it begins, I suppose. Right now I'm somewhere between 1/3 and 1/2 done writing this story, and just so you guys are aware, I've been jumping around a lot. The first few chapters are more or less completed, but as of now I'm simply going to post the first of these up as I feel pretty bonafide in it and I want to make sure there is generally equal spacing in time between chapters. Mainly as I patch up holes in some of these earlier chapters and fill in gaps with the later ones and figure out where to place islets of ideas written down, should they be used. Generally, I have a good outline of the story and most of the major plot points, it's just trying to get those last few points, as well as fleshing out minor plot and details. I want to give this chapter and the next one about two or three weeks in-between time so I can get the chapters I just started fleshed out.
> 
> I'll add in additional tags as I begin to work on those parts that would necessitate them. So, if a tag pops up that you don't like, unless you really, REALLY don't like it for personal reasons, I ask to keep an open mind about it.
> 
> And, as much as I love the little, all-powerful dorito, Bill's not going to be in this, aside from any in-story mentions. I feel like he's not an integral part of the story, and would ultimately serve as a distraction.
> 
> There also won't be WenDip, but I also won't stop you guys if you happen to read it in that way. You're free to come up with your own conclusions.
> 
> As a final note, AO3 has kind of disappointed me in that I can't work with the story in quite the way I want to. The limited HTML capabilities are frustrating, to say the least. Not sure if it's due to accessibility, but regardless, I'm going to look into CSS as a possible workaround, but if all else fails I'll have to resort to a makeshift solution to meet my needs, even if it makes the secondary story less fun to discover. (Note to self work on secondary story)
> 
> With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy.

Gravity Falls, Oregon was just as scenic as it was since that fateful summer three years ago, and aside from a few, modest changes the town itself had gone through, it was still the same, tight-knit town as it ever was. It and a few, tiny villages and sleepier towns were surrounded by thick wilderness interrupted only by a county road serving as the major highway for the area. 

A bus lumbered off said highway at around 9 at night, heading down the road and to its underused and unusual stop near the edge of this town. For all but two passengers inside this half-full bus, this would be a vaguely annoying ten minute diversion from their own destinations. For the two passengers, this would be the start of another amazing summer with some of their closest friends. The young man was particularly excited, vibrating and shaking in his seat, and while his sister was also excited, hers wasn't quite as visible, an unusual contrast to those that knew them.

Due to an error on their dad's part, they had to board the early morning bus instead of their normal one twelve hours later. It was probably this and an accidental excess of caffeine during the afternoon that caused the more level-headed twin to be this hyped at that point in the evening. But maybe the fact that he wouldn't see his friends until the next morning helped to contribute to this restlessness. Even after finally getting off the bus and getting settled into the attic turned bedroom, his impatience failed to wane in the slightest.

Dipper absolutely could not wait for the next morning, and it was really hard to get some sleep between that and the beyond noisy thunderstorm crashing throughout the night. Mabel, his sister, had stayed up late with him, and the twins were gushing with plans for the summer ahead of them, but she clocked out for the night way before Dipper. It had to be at least 2 or 3 am before the energy drink finally wore off and a lull in the storm's waves of attack got Dipper to fall asleep.

The next morning started early: 6 am. Mabel was full of her usual level of energy and was raring to go within fifteen minutes of waking up. Dipper, on the other hand, took longer to rouse, and needed extra time to shower and get ready before heading off with his sister into town. He left out a half cup of coffee for himself when he finally rolled out of bed to chug down all at once just before leaving. Dipper rarely drank the stuff, but wanted to meet up with Soos and Wendy with some form of pep within him, even if it was just cheap energy. Soos had mentioned in the chat a few days before that he had something awesome to show everyone, after all.

Dipper and Mabel arrived at the diner at around 7:15, just before the scheduled meet-up time, and loitered in front of the building before a familiar pickup truck pulled in. A large man trundled out and was double glomped by the twins.

"Soos!" Mabel beamed.

"It's so great to see you!" Dipper exclaimed. "What did you want to show us?"

Soos laughed. "Woah, hey dudes. Can't it wait until Wendy shows up? I mean, I haven't shown her. I want all you guys to be here before I show you."

"Pleaaase, Soos?" Mabel begged.

"Nope."

"Can't you give us one hint?"

"Sorry, Mabel. Everyone's gotta be here."

Dipper understood and nodded. "Soos doesn't want to leave Wendy out, Mabel. He would have told us by now if it wasn't amazing."

"Haha, yep. Dipper's got it. Anyway, let's get a booth before the morning rush comes. Susan'll let us get one while we wait for Wendy."

The twins agreed, and the three entered into the diner and got a window booth minutes before the morning rush began. Dipper took the chance to shed the old, blue vest he had grabbed in half-awake impulse from earlier and basked in the diner's cool air. They all ordered drinks while they waited, Soos and Mabel both opting for juice while Dipper, still exhausted from the long night, ordered coffee. Susan warned him that it wouldn't be hot, but Dipper made it clear that he didn't mind.

"You probably shouldn't get into coffee just yet, dude. No offense or anything, but you still look too small physically to tolerate it."

Dipper yawned. "Had a long night. And besides, I had half a cup just before we left, but it was weaker than what I hoped it'd be."

"Probably shouldn't have bought that energy drink when we stopped in Red Bluff."

"I just... I dunno. Kinda wanted to try that kind out."

Their drinks came after several minutes. Dipper took a long gulp and scrunched up his face in disgust. It was black and ice cold. "Ecch." Dipper took in a moment to recoil before glancing over at the wall clock. 7:30. The meet-up time was 7:20. "Hey, Soos--"

An electronic jingle played out, and Soos reached into his pocket and looked at the screen. "Wendy said she just woke up just ten minutes ago and is heading out the door real soon." Another jingle. "ETA about ten minutes." A third. "You guys can start without me, order the bacon egg pancakes for me." Soos laughed. "Well, I'm pretty sure your answer's right there. Funny. Wendy's been trying to get to places on time lately- you know, turning 18 and wanting to mature and stuff- and she's been really good about it. Must've been woken up by the storm last night and couldn't get back to sleep or something."

"Oh yeah. The storm was really loud. That... also kept me up."

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I slept right through it." Mabel ribbed her brother. "Maybe you would've too if you got the turkey jerky instead."

Dipper finished off his coffee and moved the mug as far as he could away from him. "You were the one who talked me out of the jerky."

The twins bantered playfully with one another, and with Soos, while they waited and had their orders taken. Soos explained the situation to Susan before ordering for their missing party member, who took it with a grin and a nod. Five minutes passed.

"Just so you guys know, Wendy's car is red and kinda boxy."

Dipper nodded. "She actually showed us a picture when she got it." Soos nodded as he remembered this himself.

"Are cars that old supposed to look broken?" Mabel asked.

"Nah," Soos explained. "But it was from Rayslist. She said it was the cheapest and best one she could afford that didn't look like it would fall apart on her."

"Speaking of Rayslist, remember that web page I posted about some of the craziest listings?" Dipper asked. "Like the one that was asking for payment in shrunken doll heads?"

The conversation shifted towards this topic for several more minutes. Dipper kept looking at the clock impatiently, fairly certain by now that the coffee served in this diner was strong. He absentmindedly pulled open a tiny plastic container of jam, and then another, due to the strong, stimulating effect this brew had. Eleven minutes had passed since the texts, and Dipper was growing just the tiniest bit agitated.

"--What, really?! I would have gotten that if I only knew!" Mabel was, of course, talking about a giant hamster wheel.

"First it was a hamster ball." Dipper smirked, having stayed in the conversation. "Now you want a human-sized hamster wheel?"

"It came with its own newspaper shreds!"

"Mabel," Dipper started while a horn blared from several blocks away. "I doubt mom and dad would've ever agreed to that."

"But--"

Mabel's argument was cut short when an unexpected, horrible crashing echoed from around the same place the horn had sounded. Everything in the busying diner paused for a brief moment before slowly returning to near the same level of activity what it was before. Dipper, Soos and Mabel, because of their position by the window, heard someone in the distance yell out a "Dear God!". Another group in a neighboring booth had also heard this, and one of them, having a window seat facing in the wanted direction, pressed her face against the window and strained to look before giving up.

"Woah. Wonder what happened." Soos breathed. "Hope everything's alright..."

Twelve minutes. Dipper felt a growing anxiety dig out a pit in his stomach, an inexorable sense that something was very wrong. He tried to ignore the feeling, and kept telling himself that it was the coffee's doing that he felt so off. Intuition regardlessly gnawed at his bones, ordering him to investigate.

"Hey guys...?" Dipper asked pensively. "I'm...I'm gonna check out what happened."

He didn't wait for a response. Dipper put his vest back on and exited the building without hearing Soos's or Mabel's mixed reactions to stay. He hurried over in the direction of the sounds, jogging past two or three pedestrians before taking a short glance above the buildings. Near the bottom of a hill to the left of Dipper's vision, gray smoke pillowed upward. Dipper paused and observed; The smoke, without a doubt, was not coming out of any building in any way. He broke out into a run, using the smoke as a beacon, and turned left at the next possible intersection. A highway truck was stopped and obscured Dipper's view of what it had hit, and so he ran further ahead. Whatever it hit, Dipper observed, it had since backed off of the highway ramp with an imprint of the collision on its grill, possibly to avoid the growing fire. Dipper looked out to the intersection, and his stomach made a spasmodic retch.

Even with the terrible damage done to the front and the darkening smoke, he saw a red, boxy car, the same one he saw in the picture Wendy showed him. And there, in the driver's seat, was Wendy, starting to go limp after so nearly having herself freed from her deathtrap. Already Dipper could tell that this was, without a doubt, the worst day of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

The thunderstorm was the noisiest, most intense storm to have gone through Gravity Falls in years. It awoke and kept many residents awake throughout the night. An especially loud, sudden bolt of lightning followed virtually immediately by an explosion of thunder shook the woods, and Wendy was startled awake. Her heart pounded. She hated thunderstorms, especially ones this violent and any that happened at night. Even when her dad, long ago, comforted her by mentioning how they were lucky that they weren't in Illinois or any other plains state, and thus didn't have to worry about tornadoes with bad storms, it still didn't erase the fact that late night thunderstorms were scary.

Alone, Wendy let herself tremble like a leaf and wrap her arms around Wally Walrus, an old, cherished stuffed toy. These nights were rare, making it all the more difficult to face. Wendy wanted to fall back asleep and ride the storm out in her dreams before morning, but another close lightning bolt kept her wide awake. This continued for a painfully long time; Wendy wondered if the storm would keep going forever before shifting her mind to other, less exciting thoughts to help her sleep. It didn't work nearly as quickly as Wendy would have wanted, but it still was ultimately effective once the storm began to quiet down and slumber returned.

Wendy groggily stirred halfway through a song playing in place of an alarm on her phone. She sat up yawning and blinked her bleary eyes. She stayed situated in that position, rubbing her face awake and forcing herself to keep her tired eyes open. If she fell asleep now, she would completely miss breakfast with Soos, Mabel and Dipper, and Wendy did not like the idea of chancing blowing off her friends for several minutes more of sleep. The sun shone unusually bright in her room, Wendy noticed, and she stared dumbly at the current set up of light and shadow before her mind began to truly process the alarm that had since looped. It was her late alarm. Wendy scrambled out of her drowsiness and pulled the phone to her face. 7:20.

"Crap!"

Wendy took off to her closet and collected a ragtag set of clothes to carry over to the shower, where she spent a grand total of seven or eight minutes showering, drying off, and getting dressed and presentable before rushing to her room one more time to grab her phone and keys and barreling to the kitchen and out the back door. She didn't greet any of her brothers, and dad had already left for work. Instead, she rapidly tapped her fingers along the touchscreen keyboard to send off several messages to Soos. Explain what happened, tell them to start without her. Hopefully, she'd be there in ten minutes.

A flock of young ravens dispersed in panic to the trees when Wendy slammed the back screen door open and ran across the short, muddied yard to her car. It was a red sedan from sometime in the 90's. She had it for the better part of three months, bought off a seedy guy across town whose disposition and strange, half-hidden trailer out back forced Wendy to check all the compartments and hidden crannies once she drove the halfway hardy car home. It was the best car for the price she needed, but Wendy still wanted to assure herself a random pullover by a cop wouldn't result in an arrest.

Wendy jumped from the warm and muggy outside into her overheated, intensely humid car and plunged the key into the ignition. The engine struggled to start, but after a second attempt and some cursing it finally lumbered to life. Wendy cranked up the A/C and was off in a flash down the long, twisting stretch of road that would lead right to the main street of town. She wanted to go faster were it not for the patches of dipped road that would undoubtedly be half-flooded, and after the first of these Wendy subconsciously pushed on the gas pedal a little harder for a moment. 

At around the third or fourth massive road puddle, Wendy began to mentally unwind from the sudden wake up chaos and eased up on the gas. Sure, she was late, but it was alright this time. Soos knew of her attempt at a cleaner on-time record, and could easily forgive this transgression, let alone pretty much everything else. Dipper and Mabel would probably be alright at this as well, though probably unaware of this resolution of hers. And Wendy gave them the okay to go ahead, so when she did arrive at the diner, it'd be as though she had already been there, in a way. Minus the part regarding Soos's secret that he wanted to share with them all. But it could wait for a few more minutes.

She pressed on the brake to take on a somewhat sharp turn, noting that she had to press on it unusually hard. The brakes in her car had always been funky, even when the pads were replaced last month. Sometimes they would work perfectly fine, but most of the time they would either be overactive or underactive. It appeared that today they'd be the latter. Dad had said that it could be the brake line and to take the car back in, but that was several weeks ago, and the stopgap, dubious solution of duct tape could only work for so long, especially in this damp, hot weather.

Wendy took on the crest of the hill, and pressed the brake again. She was brought back to the present when she could only feel her car speed up going down the hill, and Wendy pressed down on the brake as hard as she could. Wendy's blood chilled. The speedometer kept ticking upward. Thoughts raced with abandon. Wendy panicked. This was not happening. This was not happening.

Wendy instinctively laid down her car horn to serve as a warning, but other than that her mind was a blank. She kept pumping at the brake, hoping that it'd come back online and literally stop this nightmare in its tracks, and up until she was approaching the intersection had not even considered any other option, or the consequences thereof. Nonsensical impulse ordered her to turn left, onto the highway off-ramp, as sharply as she could at the intersection, and only when she started this turn did Wendy's right arm remember the emergency brake lever. She reached for it, but never grabbed hold of it, as her car met the grill of a highway truck almost head-on. Her whole upper body jerked forward, the windshield exploded into her, the front of her car crunched backwards, and a firm smack in the head by an airbag deploying milliseconds too late knocked Wendy senseless.

For an all-too-brief minute or two, there was no pain or awareness of the world. Wendy's first notion of the chaos of the situation she was in was of the growing sensation of flaming knives slicing throughout her face and upper body. Her eyes shot open and instantly screwed back shut as new sources of injury pounced and screamed across her left arm and chest. Wendy knew, based on past experience, that she had to have broken at least one bone just now, with the possibility of there being more leaning much more into the realm of certainty than anyone would have liked.

Wendy took a labored breath and forced her eyes back open in order to regain bearings of the world and scene around her. Half of her face was buried deep into a half-deflated airbag, a cruel irony given how shoddy everything else about the car had once been, with the other half of her face covered in glass and rivulets of blood and looking past the remnants of the windshield, to the crumpled up state of the front of the car. Even though the semi had almost managed to scream itself to a halt, Wendy's car had to have sped nearly straight into the truck at the very least 35 miles per hour. Maybe even 40. 45? It would explain how her now former car's dashboard had her loosely pinned between itself and the car seat. It would also explain the aching electrical sensation knocking around in her head. Probably from smacking it a little too hard into the airbag when it went off.

Wendy moved her good arm and had it act as a shaky lever to lift her body up. Something in her chest protested violently and she coughed several times before taking a deep, albeit constricted breath in recoil. Must have been pinned more tightly than she had first guessed, and whatever chest injury simply did not like that. She could feel a thin layer of sweat breaking out and a strange sensation of tightly packed cotton lodged in her ears as a consequence of this action.

Ten or fifteen bystanders had loosely gathered off the side of the road. Two were tending to the driver of the truck, whom was sitting on the sidewalk and, other than a bruised leg splayed out, had gotten out of the accident more stunned than anything, though not before backing his truck out of Wendy's car. Several more bystanders appeared to be talking on their cell phones, most likely contacting emergency services.

What was strange to Wendy was their faces. They weren't blurry, but rather there was very little detail that she could pick out from these faces and, as a matter of fact, practically everything outside of her total wreck of a car had that same lack of detail and growing decay of vibrancy. Her vision, she hazily noted, was starting to tunnel, and what she could see was beginning to be obscured by a thickening blanket of gray, snowy billows. It was very difficult to hear what was going on, and the feeling of cotton in her ears was disintegrating into unpleasant static. Wendy could not take another moment, and let herself slump back down to try and force some blood back into her brain to keep these symptoms of passing out at bay, if only for another minute or two.

But it was okay. Everything was going to be okay. Help was coming. She just needed to relax herself and focus on breathing. Breathing was getting difficult to physically tolerate, but Wendy needed all the air she could possibly draw in to delay losing consciousness. Take a ragged breath in, hold, release. Take another breath in, hold, release. Wendy gave herself some credit. She was doing good. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Inh-

That terrible scent shocked Wendy fully awake and pumped with adrenaline. It was a very dirty, burning smell. She lifted herself up again and was met with her deepest fear regarding the situation. Something under the crushed hood of her wrecked car had caught fire. Wendy looked back to the bystanders, all of which were aware of this new development and were overtaken by a primal fear. None of them wanted to help. They were afraid for their own lives at this point, and were glued to where they were standing. The realization hit. Wendy needed to get out.

The combination of her fast, heavy heartbeat and mixture of adrenaline and endorphins brought forth a powerful surge of energy that made it possible to sit up with barely any recognition of pain. Wendy managed to use this new strength to release the seatbelt with her good arm and yank it through the tight space between herself and the dashboard with her bad arm. It took several attempts for the belt to go through, and the fourth and most forceful of all managed to break through. A terrible explosion of severed nerve endings within her arm rang out in anguish at this, and the natural high had all at once began to trail off. There wasn't time to coddle the broken bone, which was punctuated with the new challenge of getting the car door open with the physically compromised appendage.

Trembling fingers were fumbling around the latch with minutely decreasing deftness, yet grasped tightly around the handle once situated. Wendy had prepared for the possibility of the door being stuck, and was right in that assumption. The door opened up about two or three inches before getting itself lodged in twisted metal. Pushing with her bad arm as hard as she could possibly handle only got it open another centimeter or two.

Wendy had to consider her options quickly: she could either try to somehow worm her good arm across the bubbled out dashboard, or shimmy herself closer to the door and put a perfectly and miraculously good leg to use. There sure as hell wasn't going to be any kind of third option no matter how tempting her own body's suggestion to rest sounded... and it sounded sickeningly sweet then. Actually, sleep sounded beautiful. Desired. Perfect. Just a moment, though. It wouldn't be like any of those times where 'a few more minutes' in bed turned into oversleeping. Not like that very morning... wait, no. No... not that morning, right? In any case, it would really be for just a minute this time. It would...

Wendy's eyes snapped open for what had to be the tenth time that day. It really had been a moment of sleep, but an errant wind blew in some thick, dark smoke through the windshield, and had reminded Wendy that she needed to escape this time bomb immediately. Without any second for reasoning, she chose to move closer to the vehicle's exit. She was astounded when it came to just how painful that simple action was to her chest. It was like something was stabbing deep within, and every little jostle and breath was another plunge of a knife to the chest. Speaking of... was her heartbeat getting softer?

Finally, she had gotten to where she needed to be, and lifted her leg as far up as she was capable of before redirecting every iota of strength to her appendage and giving a fast, hard slam to the door. It gave the wanted result. The door swung ajar. Freedom was in reach. But the suddenness of the car door opening suctioned some more of the polluted smoke through the windshield. Wendy had no choice but to take in a breath of this fiery hot air, and the instant reflexive, intense coughing burnt away the remaining embers of adrenaline-fueled energy.

The greyout washed back up, more intense than before it was interrupted by the initial smell of smoke and the panic that ensued. The edges of Wendy's vision tunneled and darkened, and her hearing faded. Leaning over to rest on the steering wheel again did nothing to alleviate these symptoms. It was impossible to see anything beyond the dashboard without it being a blurred and unsaturated mass of amoebic blobs, and every sound save for the internal noises of a heartbeat and ragged, crackling breathing was distant and becoming alarmingly indecipherable.

Wendy closed her eyes and let out a soft groan. It was going to end like this: if her injuries wouldn't do her in, the fire will. There was nothing that could be done to fix this. She was scared, despite her exhaustion, but like her senses, it too was also fading. Wendy was... okay with this. Not ready, and absolutely terrified, but accepting of this fate. The best she could do now was listen to herself fade away and be lifted into whatever plane of existence was next.

Wendy felt herself moving up and wanted to smile at this reward until a sudden chill collided across her body. She heard someone yell, as though they were deep underneath layers of rubble. The yells didn't seem to have any particular meaning, but rather they were yells and grunts of herculean effort and struggle. These yells increased in fevered anxiety, and Wendy felt herself being tugged in some direction.

She forced herself to open her eyes out of curiosity, and by the thinning fog clearing out of her sight could see the blurry wreck of a smoldering car getting farther away. Looking down, Wendy could see her feet being dragged across pavement, and looking up she could see a morning blue sky. She was too stunned to piece together these facts as evidence that someone had gotten her out until she had been lying face-up on the pavement long enough for her oxygen hungry brain to be supplied with what it needed.

"Oh, thank you, God... dude... thank you, man..." Wendy choked out. "J-just... than--" she let out several deep coughs and winced at the crushing pressure it had put on her left lung just by sucking in air. Incidentally, this third return to consciousness brought with it the return of perceiving just how much everything hurt, and she especially took in new sources of pain she hadn't felt before, such as her right foot.

A silhouette appeared over her. "Can you hear me, Wendy? What hurts? Please, say something!" This voice sounded agitated, and hearing it call out her name gave Wendy the impression that she knew this person. "Wendy?!"

Wendy took in a labored breath and wheezed. "Chest... arm... f-foot... my head, a little...”

"What about your neck? O-or back?"

"...I think it's alright... Neck's kinda sore..."

This person grabbed a hold of her right wrist and prepared to start taking a pulse, but paused. "Oh God, your wrist is freezing." They were paralyzed at the revelation-- Wendy had no idea why this was so bad, but suddenly the person got up and took off their vest to place over Wendy's prone body. "I'm gonna find something better than this. I'll be back in a minute. Just... hang in there!" And then they were gone.

Wendy didn't want to move her neck to check out this vest haphazardly thrown on her, so she dragged her fingers across the fabric of this makeshift blanket. It was unreal and disconcerting, though, when her numbed fingers failed to pick up on what material the vest was made out of. Maybe her fingers were frozen as well? But it had to be impossible; even through the thick haze, Wendy knew the thunderstorm last night had brought with it so much heat and humidity that it needed to feel like it was at least 85 degrees by now. In fact, who would be wearing a vest in this oppressive weather? It was insanity. Only an outsider wouldn't know how the local climate worked.

Then, all at once, the pieces of evidence crashed into one another and Wendy vaguely swore that a shockwave of heat rushed past as she did. Dipper. And, like magic, Dipper returned and draped a car baked blanket over Wendy. His features were muddied, and his outline against the sun was smeared until he leaned in close and Wendy could see the panic etched all over his face.

Wendy took several small breaths, then tried to pull the blanket off her, although she was stopped by a protective Dipper. "Dude... It's too hot today."

"Wendy, no. It--"

She interrupted weakly. "But it's summer--"

Dipper interrupted right back, "You need to stay warm for your own good." his pleading sounded distant.

Wendy parted her mouth slightly, sluggishly thinking of what to say to Dipper in order to comfort him. Instead, she coughed raggedly into Dipper's face. She saw him touch his face and look at his fingertips in horror. In the moment between between her coughing and his terror, Wendy couldn't help but drowsily note that her heart was beating too fast and too weak for her consciousness to stay supported."I think..." she tried catching her breath with quick, short breaths, "I think I'm gonna pass out."

Dipper's eyes went wide. "N-no! You can't pass out!" Dipper looked up. "Someone, get over here and help!" A stranger approached and asked something that Wendy couldn't quite make out. "I-I don't know!" Dipper chewed at his lip." Keep her legs up!"

Wendy barely perceived any improvement in this vain attempt to keep her conscious. Her sight had become severely tunneled, and whatever her glazed over eyes could pick up was this amorphous, dark gray version of the world. Her senses failed to pick up on a trembling Dipper carefully, desperately, petting and squeezing her hand. Wendy was not certain on when she had closed her eyes one last time, and when she could no longer feel herself lying on the pavement or the pain she was in, but her distorted hearing clung on.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!"

"Wendy, please." She heard Dipper take a deep breath.

"...--ke up." It was starting to fade.

"You're going... okay!" An odd heat transcended her lungs.

"No, no--... no, no!"

"I hear the amb...ce! It's comi... --to be okay!"

"It's clo...--breat... BREATHE."

Wendy's hearing finally went. She drifted away from consciousness moments before the paramedics arrived, and felt the ultimate sense of peace overtake her when she finally lost all connection with the world.


	3. I will meet you there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all. Been chugging along with this story at a decent clip, though admittedly been slowing down a little. Though I'm glad to say that I'm halfway done at the least, about 2/3rds at the most. Tweaking stuff around, checking and rechecking continuity, you know. Only thing not really worked on? That second story. Goshdangit, me. >:T

Bright light leaked its way into awareness, and Wendy stared right at it. She had been lying down, much like she was when she had lost consciousness, but all the pain that had hammered into her before was absent. Wendy stood upright and blinked her eyes, trying to become accustomed to the blank room's intense lighting. Details slowly trickled in that confirmed that this had to be some room in a hospital. The walls were their sterile white, and up against them were very low tables littered with near-forgotten tools. Wendy did not realize until a doctor rushed past that she had to be standing on a table, and it took another moment to notice that nobody was fazed by the sight of a severely injured teenager standing on a table with no trouble.

And then Wendy looked down. She was floating above herself, surrounded by a group of fervent doctors. Her upper body and face was peppered with cuts of differing lengths and depths, and many of them were cleaned, but the deeper ones were leaking blood and still had glass embedded. Her neck was securely encased in a brace, there was an air mask strapped over her nose and mouth, and her shirt and bra were ripped apart. Her chest was a dark blue, bruised mess, especially on her left side, which looked sickeningly deflated. A couple of pads were attached across her chest, themselves connected via wires to an intimidating machine, which was itself attached to more machines. Wendy focused on her body. It was a sickeningly pale white, and her eyes, half open, looked like jelly. It was as though she was...

"Oh, _crap_ , no!"

Wendy floated in closer, close enough to hear what the doctors were saying. Of course, they were talking in a technical language that was impossible to comprehend. One of them was shaking her head forlornly, while another, in control of the machine that was connected to Wendy's bared chest, pushed a button. Her body spasmed, a small, involuntary grunt escaped her parted, bluish lips. Wendy could feel the jolt shoot across her chest, but her earthly body, once the powerful shock ended, laid motionless. She looked over to the machines and spotted an EKG. It wasn't like she didn't have a pulse, but it was very slow and too irregular. Three pulses weak and barely noticeable, one lurching and screaming with the will to live.

"It's getting worse..." Someone to her left commented. "She already flatlined once, and the atropine is only showing limited effectiveness."

"Agreed..." said someone to the right. "It's been almost ten minutes since we started full resuscitation efforts."

A third voice dissented. "We can't give up." It said meekly. "At least... I want to give her another minute or two." Apparently it was the operator of the defibrillator, and he gave Wendy another jolt.

Wendy couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What?! No, you guys. You have to keep trying! You can't just give up on me like this!"

She floated closer, right in front of her body, and put her hands together to thrust into her chest. Her hands phased through her body. She tried again, with the same result. A third jolt came and went. Four weak pulses. Wendy desperately changed tactic and punched her spirit chest. It did nothing to help, even if the punch did connect. A fourth shock produced two strong pulses, followed by five increasingly weaker, slower beats. The fifth shock, one strong, three weak. Sixth, four weak. Seventh, just a flutter and a meaningless leg spasm. The eighth, ninth and tenth shocks had nothing but a dreaded whine emit from a monitor.

The second person sighed. "D'you want to call it?"

"No! I want to live! Please! PLEASE!"

"Sure. What time is it?"

“Eight thirty-two am.”

Wendy's spirit coiled backwards. She had no words. No idea how to react to this. She was dead. Below her was now a corpse. It was sickening; she wanted to vomit, even though she knew she couldn't. Not anymore.

A doctor made some scratches into his clipboard with a pen and walked out of the room. Her own death sent Wendy mentally reeling and, perhaps as a result of this, she glided behind the doctor mindlessly. Deep down she knew where he was heading, and Wendy hoped to whatever higher being that all of this, from the moment she woke up that morning to that very second and beyond, needed to be a terrible nightmare and that she'd wake up any moment in her bedroom. Everything would all be okay, and she'd eventually look back and laugh at this highly traumatic nightmare and oh God no don't tell them he's lying he's LYING DON'T TELL DAD AND DIPPER.

It all played out in slow motion. Manly Dan looked at the palms of his hands and placed them over his face. Dipper, who already looked as though he had just lived through hell, went from shocked, to a numb, heartbroken trance. Neither cried, the former trapped in maintaining a facade and the latter too out of it to do anything more than dumbly stare ahead, mouth agape yet forming silent and meaningless syllables.

The scene froze. Wendy put her hands over her mouth and sobbed for them. Ghostly tears fell and dissolved like liquid nitrogen, never reaching the floor below. Wendy did not notice herself ascending until the static frame of the scene before her grew distant and darkened. She was pulled into a void much like oblivion, and stayed there, even after Wendy could not cry anymore. She simply floated there in nothingness, dreading the uncertainty of what was coming next.

Wendy never really had been a firm believer in any particular faith, and aside from one or two angsty phases, never really thought about what happened after death. Heaven seemed like the best possible outcome, but waiting for that light or further ascension or, really, anything led to more nothingness. Wendy tried to cheer herself up by telling herself that maybe she was getting ready for some reincarnation event, but after what felt like an eternity of patience, her emotional spirit crumpled and tore into anxiety. Was it possible that this was it? That this is what hell really was supposed to be like?

Then, a radiant flash of light, and a sharp surge forward, evidenced by an intense wind crashing across the front of Wendy's body. And all at once, it stopped, and Wendy's eyes contracted shut. Having been in darkness for too long, the sudden light left her blinded for at least a minute before she even attempted to open her eyes. This place looked familiar... wasn't this the attic of the Mystery Shack?

“Wendy?”

She turned around and there, sitting on a bed, sat Mabel and one of her friends. Glenda? Brenda? In any case, it was night, if the darkness from the window and the clock reading 11:03 gave any indication. Wendy couldn't help but smile and be intensely relieved at this sight and circumstance.

“Oh man, Mabel! I'm so glad to see you.” Wendy laughed, some of it meant to hide her nervousness. “I had this crazy nightmare where I got into a crash and died, like, _actually_ saw myself die, and then there was nothing!” She moved forward, towards Mabel. “And it was just so intense that it had to be real, you know? I ju--”

Wendy froze. She had moved to place her hands on Mabel's shoulders, but they phased right through. Wendy's hands were glowing, bluish, and translucent. She turned to a mirror, and saw the surreal reverse image of the entire room, minus herself.

“...I can't be.” Phantom tears welled up.

Mabel quietly spoke up. “You are. You've been dead for over a year.”

Several tears dropped down and disintegrated. “What?”

“Yeah.”

Wendy bowed her head down and let the tears drop and wisp away. It wasn't a dream. It was real. She was dead. The heavy pain weighed her down, and she practically sunk down to the floor in self-mourning. So many things she'd never be able to do. The people close to her changed and scarred by her abrupt demise. Even Mabel looked like she had aged more than a year.

Suddenly, as though she wanted to defy Wendy, Mabel smiled. “But this is great! We've summoned you. Dipper's notes were right! Now we can help him!”

"... _What_?" Emotions made it hard to discern if this was said more in the sadness of the situation or in misplaced anger of any of it being considered 'great'. Regardless, Wendy's tears stopped.

“I've been waiting to do this for months now! I mean, Soos couldn't find the notes so I couldn't do anything back home. Probably couldn't anyway, since we needed this.” Mabel gestured to an arcane board, littered with handmade jewelry. “And it was all in a box under the floorboards under Dipper's bed. It had everything! It--”

“Mabel!” Wendy regretted snapping at the Pines sister, who had stopped dead in her monologue, hurt. “Mabel,” Wendy repeated, this time gentler but just as authoritative, “What's going on? Explain everything to me. Both of you.”

Mabel's friend piped up. “You died. Is this one of those things that ghosts can't really understand?” It was not said in rudeness, but Wendy still cast a 'not cool' glare at her. “Sorry.”

“...Is she right, though?” Mabel asked.

“No, I get it.” Wendy sighed. “It's just... everything else.”

“Well, Dipper has all these notes he took after you died about resurrections, what ghosts can do, and... here, let me show you!”

Wendy watched Mabel crawl under her bed and pull out a small box. Wendy noticed her name was labeled in small letters in blue marker. The lid was already opened, and Wendy guessed that the summoning tools had been in there. Mabel upturned Dipper's box and the few remaining contents spilled out. A pocket journal, several newspaper clippings, and a small, beat up notebook with every tattered out page reverently stapled back in. Mabel looked at the clippings herself before laying them out in order for Wendy to see:

June 16th, 2015 first page and middle second page: _Recent Graduate Dies in Car Accident_ , and an obituary.

June 17th, 2015 second page: _Crash Investigation Still Ongoing_

June 18th, 2015 second page: _Investigation Reveals Bra ke Malfunction_

June 21st, 2015 lower first page: _Accident Victim Laid to Rest_

The text of these articles were dotted with highlighter markings and circled numbers jotted down in pen ink. The obituary had two words scratchily underlined, as though they were made in complete spite: organ donor.

“Why is that circled?” Wendy gestured.

“Dipper was crazy. He wanted to bring you back from the dead!” Grenda explained.

“He read that obituary like a million times! He didn't notice that part even until he was practically ready to go to the graveyard to perform the ritual. I had to show it to him.” Mabel went quiet. “It... really broke his heart.”

“Well,” Seeing Mabel being that depressed saddened Wendy, to say the least. “Did he figure out whether or not they might have took anything important?”

“No. But it got him afraid that even if you still had all your guts, your body might have gotten too messed up to last very long.” Grenda explained.

“Dipper mentioned that your dad said they'd donated a couple organs." Mabel's eyes squinted. "Maybe your liver? I can't remember...”

Wendy placed a hand on her stomach. "Yeah, I'd need that one to live." Awkward silence. “Where's Dipper, anyway?”

“He's coming up here now. It took forever to get Mom and Dad to realize that this would be much better for him than staying home and hanging out with them...” Mabel trailed off.

“Them? What, you mean his friends?”

“Friends with at least fifteen quotation marks.” Grenda made a bunch of air quotes.

Wendy knew what that meant instinctively; Dipper had been hanging around with a bad group that was claiming to be his friends. It was something that was seen often enough while she was in high school.

“How did it happen?” Wendy recalled Dipper's reaction when the doctor had told him the news. “How did he, you know... deal after he found out?”

“When Dipper came home, he went straight to bed. He stayed in bed up until the funeral, and only then he still needed to be forced out to shower and eat something more than candy bars... I'm not sure if he slept or was awake most of the time, just that he'd wake the Shack up in the middle of the night yelling and sobbing and just being... beyond miserable.”

“Oh... God...”

“After a while me and Soos tried taking him out to the arcade and stuff to get his mind off it. Not sure exactly why, but he got his resurrection idea when we went to the mall and happened to pass this plus-size pants store.”

“Jurpantssic Park?” Wendy suggested.

Grenda spoke up a little too loudly. “I go there all the time!”

“Then, let me guess, he spent countless nights researching everything so he could bring me back, right?”

“Yep! He was classic Dipper!” Mabel wistfully trailed off.

“At least, until he figured out I was an organ donor?”

A nod. “...Pretty much.”

Grenda stood up. "Hey Mabel? Popcorn's been done since ages ago. Gonna go get it and maybe a couple other things."

Mabel nodded, and Grenda left, leaving the remaining human and ex-human alone in privacy.

Wendy started the conversation back up, “Then I'm guessing he went on this ghost track?”

“Yeah, and he had everything ready to summon you.”

“Well, why didn't he?”

“He never told me until a few months ago, during the weekend our parents were out, but he said that he was scared.”

“...Scared? Of what? Didn't he talk to at least a few ghosts before? Like the store owners?”

Mabel shook her head. “Not like that. He said he was scared of you and that you'd be angry and blame him for your death.”

Wendy was taken aback. “Dude, does it look like I'm mad at him?" She smiled sincerely, the first time since she died, "I'm actually honored he did everything he could.”

“Dipper thinks he should have never brought the breakfast idea up, and that he especially should have tried saving you in any way other than how he tried. He told me it was better for him to just... blame himself in peace than have you agreeing with him.”

“But it... it wasn't his fault!”

“I know...” Now it was Mabel's turn to tear up. "But he just won't listen to anyone telling him that. Not even that Dr. Harrison guy! And those people are supposed to know how to get Dipper to listen more than anyone!" 

"...Harrison?" Wendy could not believe that Dipper's grief had gotten to where it needed professional help. "Is it really... has it gotten that bad?"

"Mom and Dad thought it would help, but that was four months ago and Dipper's barely chan-- no, wait. He's gotten worse." Mabel covered her face in her hands and after a long, shaky sigh, added simply, "He needs to listen to you. That's the only way."

Wendy took stock of the Mabel that was before her; she was begging deeply, a learned behavior to get what she wanted, whatever it was, and one that Wendy had seen before in much less dire and dismal situations. One where, if it failed to achieve the wanted result, Mabel would instead resort to herself to make what she wanted a reality. This time, it was a fusion of both, and though Mabel did summon Wendy's ghost back to earth, it was to plead to Wendy for help, and a last-ditch effort to do something substantial, all for her twin brother. Wendy was determined.

"I'll do it."

Mabel looked up. "You will?" Already, she was grinning.

"Yeah, dude. Dipper sounds like he's still really hurt. Maybe if I do appear to him and tell him that I'm okay now and not mad at him and stuff, it'll help him start moving on." Wendy bit her lip. "How're you gonna get him to conjure me up to him or whatever, though?"

"I don't know, Wendy. He's _really_ scared and also sorta really messed up."

"Is he going to stay here for a while?" Mabel nodded. "Then we'll find a way, Mabes. Don't sweat it too much right now."

"If you say so!" Mabel sounded a touch doubtful, which she noted and cleared out with a suggestion. "Maybe if he sees small things that shows you're here and want to talk to him he can work through his fear!"

"Hey, now that sounds like a plan I can get behind."

"Yeah!" Mabel was once again her bubbly self. Although the plan had to be put on hold, she was practically on top of the world. Wendy's spirits were raised considerably seeing Mabel being herself, even if the situation she was in warranted entire lists of questions. For one, Wendy felt clumsy without a body, and wondered if she had to learn to travel on a third dimensional plane. And two, if the first one was true, what else she needed to learn.

"You know, Mabel. I just became a ghost, like, fifteen minutes ago or something around there. Would you mind too much if I just go ahead and wander around? You know. Gotta get used to not having a body."

"Well," Mabel started, grinning, "You'd probably get bored sitting here and watching me and Grenda sleep. So why not?"

"Awesome. You're the best, Mabel!" Wendy turned towards the window and floated forward in a motion that seemed just as natural as walking.

“Wait! Wendy?”

Wendy stopped and turned around. “Yeah, Mabes?”

“Could you...” Mabel paused. “Watch over Dipper? Make sure he doesn't get into trouble or hurt himself when I'm not there? Maybe by using your ghosty powers? At least until I can convince him to contact you?”

“In other words, be his guardian angel? Absolutely.”

“Yay! Good! You do know you have ghosty powers, right?”

“...Uhh...” Wendy paused. “I think I've heard of ghosts moving things around, though so far I haven't been able to do much other than, like, talk to you and float around.”

“...Maybe it's because you've just become a ghost! You're like a baby ghost and you have to learn how to be a ghost!”

“Heh. Sure sounds like it.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Dipper's not showing up until tomorrow. You have all night to figure this ghosting stuff out. Even if it's a little! Go on! Mush! And thank you!”

“No problem, Mabes.” Wendy turned towards the window. “You know, I only just got this, but...” she snickered. “Now who's protective of who?”

“I know, right?”

Mabel's laugh was infectious, and Wendy laughed as well, before taking her leave through the closed window. She dropped like a stone for a fraction of a second and yelped before she re-stabilized and floated back up. Apparently, even floating was a skill Wendy had to get used to, and it was a good place to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Car crash came and car crash went, so I went along with it


	4. I Used to Live Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that feeling when you have a ton of things you want to say and get out but it's days until you finally get the opprotunity, but when you do you don't have a whole lot to say? Because that.

"Okay, just gotta go up an- woah, too much. Need to go down... no, no, too low, c'mon, get back up, get back uuuwAgh!"

Maintaining buoyancy as a ghost was much harder than Wendy had seen on TV and in movies. For the ghosts in them, floating and moving around always came naturally even as they were peeled away from their earthly bodies. There was no learning curve. But Wendy had to exert mental effort, miniscule as it was, and even then she kept lurching upward and downward. She'd be nauseous at this point, if she was still alive. Regardless, she kept up her practice of this highly basic concept as she slowly drifted down the road towards town. Given that it was night, Wendy doubt she'd really see anybody, and to be honest, didn't want to see anyone. Wendy wanted as little distraction as possible while teaching herself basic ghost concepts, although, she remembered floating around in the hospital perfectly fine. Something about then in comparison to now felt off; Wendy reminded herself that technically she wasn't a ghost then, but most likely a soul newly separated from its body flailing about before moving into the abyss. 

Wendy replayed the event in her head. It felt like her demise had only happened hours ago. The rushing feeling in her head while talking to Mabel and just trying to wrap her head around everything made her pack away her emotions for later. Now was later. Wendy stared at her translucent hands, and let them touch each other. She wasn't sure if she felt them touch, or if she was remembering how it felt to have them touch, and mourned over this. More tears shed to never hit the ground.

If it was any consolation, at least phasing through walls and flying across the land were innate abilities for new ghosts.

Wendy fell back down to earth for the umpteenth time, though she had stopped her descent sooner than before, giving her some evidence that she was indeed getting the hang of this. She continued forward, going steadily downhill and keeping her distance from the ground as constant as she could. It didn't occur to her until she had reached a bend in the road that she could simply cut through the woods the rest of the short way to the main street of town. Wendy took this new option without as much as a second thought. It was a shortcut, after all.

Slowly phasing through trees was a visually surreal experience. The second Wendy penetrated the bark of the trunks, she saw the guts of the tree much in a way like a psychedelic plank of wood, before exiting through the other side of the tree. It was an action she repeated again and again if only to strive and fail for the deeper parts of her mind to mentally comprehend what it was seeing. She became entranced with this, forgetting to practice on her levitation, until seeing twin glints upon exiting an ancient pine tree.

"Who's there?!" Wendy forgot for a moment that she was a ghost, and that no one could hear her.

At first she thought it was a mountain goat that was awake at a god-awfully unusual hour, by the way its eyes looked and its snow white body. Then it stood up, and lunged toward Wendy. Wendy wasn't alarmed at this action until the beast grabbed her wrist with sharp talons, at which point her mind blitzed into panic mode. This wasn't supposed to be possible. She was a ghost! And this thing, now that Wendy had a better look, certainly wasn't a ghost. It was more of a demon, covered in pure white feathers. An angel straight from hell, its humanesque skull was covered in long down of off-white, leaning towards a brownish tint, and its two eyes were slitted froggish goat pupils that stared and observed. The third glowing eye, placed firmly in the center of its forehead, was simply an empty jelly sack with no pupil nor corona.

Its talons reached down to Wendy's fingers, and Wendy felt a sharp crushing as these talons squeezed her fingers like testing cooked meat. She couldn't move, so she couldn't fight back. She desperately wanted to move any part of her body. Even if was her vocal chords emitting a scream, it was still better than this paralyzed state. This demon expressed a keen interest in crushing Wendy's fingers, so much so that Wendy wondered if ghosts could become mutilated.

Then, as it had happened, the monster dissolved into fog and was gone. Wendy could not take in any more details than she had noted in those twenty grueling seconds of facing the being, and the instant she could sense her body being back in her control sped away towards her destination, not sure if the thing would want to follow her, or if it would catch her out there, or if she was even thinking straight in the first place.

"Holy shit, holy crap, holy _shit_." Wendy, wide-eyed in fright, instinctively dove into a small alley in-between two businesses once she broke through the trees. "What... just... _D ude_. What. The. Hell. Was. THAT?" she could not stop shaking. "What the FUCK did it want?!"

A raccoon leaped from atop a trashcan and scurried away, starling Wendy further and forcing her to momentarily ball up as defense. She left this position and, still shaking, began consoling herself. She was okay. Alright. Dead, but alright. Nothing was going to hurt her. Because she was dead. Sure, that thing could, whatever it was, but other than that, she was dead, so it wasn't like anything else could kill her. She couldn't possibly die twice, right? No, that was stupid.

Wendy poked her head outside of the alley and eyed the forest that she burst from carefully, taking in every single movement of the trees and shrubbery until she felt safe to float out into the road. She sunk down as far as she could, where she was practically standing on the pavement, to avoid detection by this creature, and took stock of her surroundings. This was the seedier part of downtown, for what it was worth; Gravity Falls was actually fairly proper, with only a few problem areas, if they could really be called that, such as the place where Wendy had gotten her car. This district, in particular, contained a good chunk of the town's bars and both nightclubs, as well as smokeshops and liquor stores. With all of that, though, it was still fairly quiet and peaceful for a summer night.

For whatever reason, Wendy felt compelled to enter into her dad's preferred bar, the one the toughest men and women in town liked. Maybe she wanted to see if her dad was in there, or wanted more substantial cover from that thing that terrified her earlier, but either way, she floated inside and took residence in an upper corner in the quieter section of the bar.

It was past two or three in the morning, so the place was starting to wind down for the evening. A couple of burly men who worked evenings were playing one last game of darts, keeping as civil as they could between their natural dispositions and the beer. Tired drunkards were sprawled on the bar counter, one passed out. In a short time, the bar was completely empty and closed for the night, and Wendy found this to be more unnerving than she had originally thought it would be. Certainly, the place would be full of tough guys ready to pounce on one another in a blood brawl. She knew, as her dad, Manly Dan, was a big enough name in town for Wendy to occasionally waltz right in without being hassled about her age to retrieve him for the evening, and almost got an unintended face full of fist more than once as a result.

Wendy's spirit smirked; there was the time four or five years ago where she did get accidentally punched in the gut. Her dad immediately came to her aid, bellowing and screaming at the combatants, even threatening them with his own fists for them to cut it out. As Dan was the strongest man in town, the two stopped without question and weaseled away to the darkest corners in the bar while Dan took a short-breathed, nauseated Wendy back home in his arms, ever so carefully driving despite his inebriation. It was well over a week before he'd stopped worrying and asking Wendy if she was alright every couple of hours. Wendy smirked again; if any of the townspeople knew just how gentle and caring her dad truly was, they would have to find a new resident to crown as the manliest.

Memories kept her company during the quiet hours of the night. She had found quickly that, as a spirit, she would not be able to go to sleep as a way to pass the time, so Wendy resorted to her thoughts and daydreams, up until the first yellow glows of sunlight peeked through the front window and splashed the bar in wondrous light. She took this as her time to leave, and rose waveringly upward, past the roof, to get a good look of downtown Gravity Falls at approximately 6 or 6:30 in the morning. Three people were already out on the street: Two were making their way to work while the third was on their early morning jog.

Wendy remained static in her floating, still thinking of past memories, thinking of where to go next. She was at a loss; didn't the bus come into town at around 9 or 10? If that was the case, she'd still have to find a way to occupy time for the next couple of hours. Dad had to be awake by now, and her brothers soon to be awake, if not already.

Her heart compelled her to turn and move in the direction of her old house. She needed to know how they were doing without her. Especially Dad. He remained strong in the public light, but when he returned home, during the short time after his wife's passing, he had let his armor fall and transformed himself into an angry wreck, even though her death was preceded by an illness with a predictable and ultimately accurate time line. Wendy could only wonder what her sudden death had done to them, to him.

It didn't take long for Wendy to travel the distance to her old home, as without a body and the laws of physics that governed it, she was able to travel in more or less a straight line to the cabin house, using her height above the earth and the road as guides. She dropped like a quickly deflating balloon as she approached, nearly colliding with the roof and landing in who knows what room in a house full of men. She moved forward and sunk down to the kitchen window before letting herself in.

The kitchen wasn't dilapidated, nor was it a mess of detritus, but the chores sure as hell were being neglected. The dishes were piled into the sink, some of it developing a blue-green mold on bits of food that clung on. Apparently there was a bug problem too, with a number of gnats buzzing around the dishes. Not even she wanted to touch that mess. Her Dad entered, took one look at the mess, and turned to grab a clean cup and frying pan from the cupboard. Wendy looked at him; he too looked as though he aged beyond a year. Lines across his face were beginning to form, and she noticed his hair lacked that vibrancy that red hair normally had. It had grayed considerably and was mussed, along with her father's flannel nightwear. He ran a large hand through his hair while waiting for the coffee maker to start brewing and the pan to sizzle the butter he had slathered all over its surface.

To Wendy, her Dad was going through the exact same motions he went through every morning that she had been alive, with the exception of her mom's late illness and subsequent death. Dad most likely went though that phase a second time when she herself had died, Wendy mused, and so this display of normal behavior was of comfort to her. The grieving period of Manly Dan, her father, had passed, and despite the loss, was moving forward. That made Wendy glad.

She watched her Dad make and devour one of his favorite breakfasts: scrambled eggs and bacon drenched in maple syrup, paired with coffee sweetened with honey. He sat there, listening to the sounds of nature outside for a good five minutes after the last bite was made before he headed towards the bathroom to shower and get ready. Wendy took this as an opportunity to explore what was and used to be her home. It was more or less exactly the same, albeit with slightly larger patches of disarray cluttering up tables and bits of floor. The door to her old room was closed and, judging by the small cracks around the hinges were filled with dust, hadn't been entered into for quite a while.

Breezing past the door was like looking into either a twisted time capsule or a lost shrine. Everything was caked with a fine layer of dust, and virtually nothing had been moved. The blanket that Wendy had thrown up in that morning madness was still crumpled on the floor, up alongside her bed, and the towel she had used lying on top. Jumbled messes of trinkets and trash strewn across her dresser, a few boxes on the floor, an old pile of clean laundry kept largely bundled together which had since long gone stale, and massive spider webs on the windowsill further developed a static photograph in perfect contrast and clarity. 

"Woah. Has anyone even been in here?" Wendy asked herself while trying to use a finger to wipe away some dust off of her old TV. The attempt proved futile as her finger phased right into the set. No trace of even the smallest dust fibers even bothered to shudder. "...Guess not..."

Wendy stared at her room, floating around, looking at artifacts of a life that had been lived and lost. She retracted her conclusion when she processed the boxes on the floor as things she had not remembered having. Indeed, upon closer inspection, the three boxes that were laid in front of her dresser were labeled in black marker as 'Keep', 'Sell/Give Away' and 'Throw Away'. All three were empty save for carcasses of furniture beetles and many empty pupae shells. Wendy remembered the last time such a heavy task had been undertaken, though with that, it had been started before death, and Wendy remembered how her Mom, thin and frail as she was, helped to guide everyone through the process of going through her things. Verily, her Dad must have started on this project but, without guidance and with fresh grief, became overwhelmed and barely made a dent, if he had even made one in the first place.

"Dad..." The shower in the bathroom turned off when Wendy said this lament. "I can't believe this. I mean, not even... you could have at least gotten rid of the trash. You know that would have been completely alright."

At that point, she heard thumping both in the next room over, and over by the single bathroom. Both doors opened at about the same time about several minutes later, and she heard her oldest younger brother grunt some kind of good morning to their Dad.

"So, uh, when's that camping trip again?"

Dad sighed. "Couple of weeks. We leave on the 8th."

"Alright. Cool."

"If you want to use the skillet, go on ahead."

"Alright. See you later, Dad."

This short conversation came though with that touch of muffledness that a closed door provides, increasing with intensity as the conversation moved towards the front door. Her Dad was leaving for his work, which left Wendy at an impasse. She desired both to stay in her room and to follow her Dad, though when it came down to it, Wendy had to admit that the depressing reality her room oozed was too much to bear. She phased through the room's outer wall and floated jerkingly upward, getting a good view of the old pickup truck as it rumbled to life and trundled out of the driveway and down the opposite way of the road, towards the logging operation, before following in its wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See how the people here live now, hope they're better at it than I was.


	5. See that young man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Pastebin, you guys.

Wendy had arrived at the Mystery Shack later than she had wanted; the clock on the gift shop wall read 10:30. She had been so wrapped up in the comfort of following Dad around as he went about his work day with his usual tough-as-nails attitude that she had seriously lost track of the time. Once on the property, she dived into the attic and looked around. It actually appeared to be even emptier than it was the previous night. There was no way that Dipper could have arrived. Wendy thought this through; throughout her time working at the Shack, she has seen the morning bus arriving as late as 1 in the afternoon, though rarely it would arrive even this late in the morning.

Just as Wendy turned from the attic window to take a thorough look inside the rest of the Shack and maybe talk to Mabel, she saw it. A blue intercity bus trundled to its designated spot about thirty feet away from the building. The doors opened and the driver first hopped off, hustling his way to the luggage compartment and lifting up the giant door. Wendy squeaked a tiny celebration once Dipper came into view; between Mabel's talk and the time since she had thought Dipper would pull a Robbie and become some sort of emo kid, decked out in black clothing, tight pants and guyliner, but he hadn't, and for a moment things didn't seem quite as bad.

She retracted her celebration though, once she darted outside and got close to Dipper so as to get a better look. His clothing seemed slapped together: old blue jeans fraying at the ankles, sneakers, a dark gray, almost black, plain shirt covered by a long, red and white and faded blue checked flannel shirt. The backpack he carried was ratty and about to break. His hair had been grown longer and even messier than how he usually had it, nearly down to his shoulders. His eyes were sunken in. Skin was wax paper pale. Body was bone-thin. Scrubby stubble and acne patched across his face. There was the look of contempt that signaled how hard Dipper did not want to be here, yet he went through the motions of pointing out which piece of luggage was his to the driver. The driver dug deep into the luggage compartment, and pulled out Dipper's rolling bag with much effort, needing to brush off other luggage pieces to reach the bag. He closed the hatch and, after wishing Dipper luck, returned to the bus to continue forth.

"Hell, Robbie at least looked like he was trying, Dipper." Wendy breathed in disbelief. "You just look terrible, man."

Dipper, of course, heard none of this commentary, and just stared at the Shack halfheartedly before taking his luggage. He spiritlessly shuffled himself over to the back door. He stopped at the door, and for a moment wondered if he should knock or use the doorbell, only to forego the niceties and let himself in.

"Hey, guys." Dipper yelled. "I'm here."

It was said to a recently emptied kitchen, save for a little pig that had wandered in to eat the food left out for Dipper, not that he appeared to mind. Dipper petted Waddles on the head with an impatient hand before fishing out a mug to get a cold drink of water and, immediately after, a cold cup of bitter coffee. He drank half of the bitter drink, then tossed the rest down the sink and placed the cup onto the table. He scurried upward with his belongings, all the way to the attic, where he released everything on his side of the room. When Wendy followed Dipper up, she noted this time around that Mabel had cleaned up of any evidence of the previous night's seance that had brought her soul back into this realm. It made sense after a minute of watching Dipper unpack; being here was upsetting enough for him, but at least it was intending to do some good. The seance supplies would have been too much, too soon.

Dipper delved into his rolling bag and pulled out a musty, massive backpack smashed all the way back down the bottom. A few bulges indicated that it wasn't empty, and Dipper peeked into these bulges as though he was making sure of something before plumping the thing out and transferring many objects from his luggage and regular backpack into this secret one. Dipper busted open a plastic space bag once he was done and after carelessly flinging an old, tiny plush rabbit onto his bed, placed the expanding, old blanket over the backpack before shoving the entire thing under his bed, then dumped more bags of clothing around his luggage. With how methodical it was, Wendy couldn't help but think as though Dipper was trying to cover his tracks, but was beyond a clue as to what he was hiding.

The entire process of this unpacking and repacking took around twenty minutes, and once Dipper was done he returned to the kitchen downstairs, and pulled out his cellphone. Wendy looked at it. It was most likely a refurbished model, given what was most striking about it was that it was barely a smartphone. Dipper flipped though the address book, which was unusually devoid of entries save for family and an entry labeled as simply 'Harrison'. He hit that entry, and held the phone up to his ear for a minute before speaking, obviously being put onto voicemail.

"Hey. Just got here about half an hour ago. Calling just like you asked." Dipper sighed, thinking. "Umm... I guess I'll hear from you Tuesday or something. See ya."

He then ended the call, and scrolled up and selected the entry for 'Mom & Dad'. He waited momentarily.

"Hi, Mom." Pause. "Yeah, I just got here. Haven't seen them yet. Probably working, I'll check it out when I hang up." Another pause, and an annoyed sigh. "Yeah, I called him too. Left a voicemail." Dipper closed his eyes, and nodded. "Yes, Mom... yeah..." Dipper's brow furrowed. "No, Mom. I only brought what I needed!" More silence, then a small blush. "Yeah... Mr. Rabbit too. I-I don't know why you wanted me to bring that old thing with me. I haven't played with that thing since I was eight." Pause. "No, not eleven. Eight."

Wendy smirked. "Dipper, you dweebus. Did you seriously not notice that I kept Wally Walrus all that time? I mean, I know you're a dude and all, and the rules say you're not supposed to be into stuffed animals after a certain age, but still."

Dipper appeared bothered. "Mom, you and Dad got me this phone two days ago and checked it before I left. Of course I don't have their numbers on here." Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose while his mother lectured him on the other side of the line. "No, Mom. You don't know them. Whatever, though. I don't have their numbers, so I can't call or text them, so literally who cares?" Dipper drew out a long, exasperated sigh while he listened. "Mom, I'll have to talk to you later. The bus was late and I think Grunkle Stan expected me here hours ago. He's probably already got some chores for me to do or something. I dunno. I'll probably just try to sleep." Pause. "Okay, bye."

Dipper put the phone into his pocket and buried his head in his hands. "God, Mom, seriously?" he sighed, and pulled out his wallet. He opened it and looked at a ripped out piece of paper. "Though it's not like I'm like the others my age though." He smirked before returning to his annoyed state. "...But, how can I get ahold of them if you're breathing down my back like this?" He sighed again. "Or, for that matter, if payphones barely exist anymore?"

Wendy poked in close, looking over Dipper's shoulder and just managed to see a series of numbers in a format that could only be for a phone number before he had the scrap shoved back behind his ID. Dipper slowly stood up and started towards the gift shop's back entrance. He took a deep breath, and said something to himself that was inaudible to Wendy. She guessed that it had to be something reaffirming, and watched Dipper while he forced himself to smile before he opened the door.

"Hey guys, I'm-"

Dipper made an audible "Oof!" as his sister glomped him. "Bro bro! You're here!"

"Uh... heh. Yeah." Dipper patted his sister's back with the arm that hadn't been crushed in the surprise attack, and they separated. Dipper took the chance to glance around the room. There were some stragglers from the last tour. Stan was attempting to upsell a pointless trinket to one of these customers, though locked eyes with his grand-nephew a second, nodding subtly in acknowledgment. Soos, who had been relegated to simple housekeeping with nothing to fix or mechanically touch-up, looked up from his task and, upon seeing Dipper, dropped what he was doing.

"Oh hey, Dipper dude!" Up came Soos, who offered Dipper a fistbump. "Good to see you're finally here!"

Dipper took the chance to fistbump the large man. "Yeah. The bus was kinda hung up on the highway for a couple hours." he forced a grin and a chuckle. "Some idiot tried to drink booze on the bus and we had to wait in the middle of the night for the police to come get him."

"Oh, dude, why couldn't they just have left him there?"

Dipper shrugged at Soos's question. "Paperwork, it looked like. Protocol. Whatever. I'm here now."

It was at this juncture, now that the last customer left, that Stan finally made his approach. "About time you showed up, kid."

They shook hands. "Hey, Grunkle Stan. Good to see you again."

"Good to see ya too, kid." Stan paused and stroked his chin critically. "Though if you're gonna work here, I'm afraid you'll have to get a haircut. I mean seriously, look at yourself. It's past your shoulders!"

"It's not that bad." Dipper pulled at a lock and strained to see for himself its true length; Wendy noticed he was mildly surprised by just how bad it'd gotten.

"Just how often do you even look at yourself in a mirror?" Wendy breathed. "It'd really explain your crappy stubble, not gonna lie man."

"Okay, so I'm being hyperbolic. But your hair is practically touching your shoulders, and I can't allow that! It'll hurt sales if it looks like I'm hiring some punk kid."

Wendy chuckled. Of course Stan would come up with that excuse.

Dipper slowly blinked his eyes. "...Can it wait until tomorrow? My butt's sore from the bus ride and I haven't gotten any sleep."

Stan narrowed his eyes in thought, then relented. "First thing tomorrow morning, you're getting a haircut."

Soos beamed. "Oh hey, me and Melody were planning to go out to breakfast tomorrow." He let out a small chuckle. "It's funny how these things work! You guys could totally come with! You know, if she's okay with it."

Mabel couldn't help but agree immediately. "That would be great!"

"I wouldn't be hungry." Dipper said a little too quickly, his voice almost totally drowned out by his sister's. "I mean to say... uh, as much as I'd like to, Soos, I'd..."

"Come on, Dipper! When's the last time we went out for breakfast? Like, three months ago? That's way too long! And besides, look at you! You need to get some fat in your veins!" Mabel grabbed what little she could of her brother's gut to illustrate her point.

Dipper brought both hands up in an apologetic motion. "Really, guys, I'm just not in the mood to go out and eat. Zero mood, actually."

His eyes met Soos's and Mabel's, and Wendy could see the pleading in the latter's. A kind of pleading that was begging the other to come back into the world and live. Dipper saw this powerful stare and its effects broke his own desires.

"Though if you guys are really insisting..." Dipper thought, then pulled out a fake smile. "I guess I can't turn it down."

Mabel made no hesitation in crushing Dipper with a massive hug of gratitude.

"Sweet! I'm gonna text Melody now and see if it's cool!" Soos pulled out his cell phone and began pecking away at a text message.

Wendy spent the majority of the day poking around the Mystery Shack once the initial excitement finally wore down. She wanted to keep a close eye on Dipper, although he had fulfilled his promise and had spent most of the day in bed, catching up on sleep. Still, she felt a need to stay, one that, as the day dragged on, became a useless endeavor. She attempted to make the day more interesting by trying to tip over the empty coffee mug Dipper had left on the table, but only ended up getting frustrated after countless attempts and strategies to get her ethereal form to contact the mug as though she were alive. No amount of willing her hands to touch the object helped. Neither did the amount of obscenities uttered at the cup. It had gotten well into the afternoon before Wendy punctuated her ragequit with a futile attempt at a slap, followed by a quick middle finger.

"Psst! Hey, Wendy!"

"Mabel?" Wendy looked up from Dipper's cup. "You can still see me?"

"Doy! Come here!"

Wendy moved to the TV room, where Mabel had been hiding out on the floor in front of the armchair. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, really. Just wanted to let you know that I can still see and talk to you!"

"Okaaay?" Wendy didn't want to argue; this was Mabel she was talking to here. "Guess it's good to know I'm not completely alone here."

"Have you learned any cool ghost stuff yet?"

Wendy frowned, "Not really. I think I'm gonna be sick from going up and down getting the whole floating thing figured out." she smirked to let Mabel know that it was only a joke, which Mabel got.

"Ahaha. Oh Wendy, you card!"

"Seriously, though, I've pretty much got nothing here. I spent the entire night just... wandering around." Wendy wondered momentarily if she should mention the massive beast she had come across, but looking at Mabel, Wendy decided she didn't want to alarm her. "Didn't really do all that much."

"What about now?" Mabel asked.

Wendy's mood returned to the cup, and she growled and groaned her displeasure. "I can't do it, Mabel! I've been trying to tip that damn coffee cup over for hours but I just can't! I literally suck as a ghost! Being a ghost sucks!"

Mabel thought with pursed lips, "Have you tried talking to other ghosts?"

"...Other ghosts?"

"Yeah! There has to be thousands roaming around! Maybe even more at the cemetery! Maybe they can help!"

Wendy felt stupid. "Oh dude, why didn't I think of that before?"

"Because you want to do things for yourself and not have to ask for help?"

"Yeah, that kinda sounds like me. I mean, it's between that and the fact that I've been essentially gone for a year." Wendy stretched. "It's like have spider webs everywhere in my brain."

Mabel nodded, and the two made their soft chuckles. The short silence that followed was quickly broken by Mabel. "...Well? What are you waiting for, Wendy? Why not go there now?"

Wendy stopped in the middle of her stretch and hesitated. "I, uh. I dunno, really." Her limbs slackened. She was lying, of course. That monster's face was still deeply ingrained in her mind's eye. "It's gonna get dark soon, and plus I want to hang out a little."

Mabel wasn't pleased by this explanation. "But what about Dipper? Our plan?"

"I know. Look, I got this. I wanna hang out with you guys so I can, uh, watch Dipper and get a good feel of what I'm working with here."

"If you insist. But I've a question."

"Shoot."

"Are you afraid of seeing your own grave?"

Wendy chewed thoughtfully over this question. The creature's visage kept popping up as she considered, almost triggering a deep, animalistic instinct to run every time it appeared. Its horrendous face, from its three eyes to the open hole that was its nose on a human skull made her deeply uneasy. As though she could tell the terrible monster would be the death of her soul if they crossed paths again. Not the grave being referred to, but a grave nonetheless.

"I guess you could say that, Mabel."

"Like, really, really afraid?"

A pause. "Terrified, actually."

Mabel started on the first few words of what was to be a rousing speech, one that, Wendy guessed, would have been about facing her fears, had it not been for Dipper shuffling his way into the room with a can of Pitt. Mabel quickly turned towards her brother, attempting to hide the existence of the conversation and, regrettably, Wendy's ghost.

"Hey, Dipper! Have a good nap?"

"Oh, you know it." Dipper plopped into the armchair, "A nice, long, six hour nap, but whatever gets me out of working the gift shop, you know?"

"Haha, yeah!" Mabel laughed, "I hear you!"

"Is there anything good on?" Dipper asked when he turned on the TV, "Like, can we watch a movie or something?"

"Haven't checked. Go for it!"

Dipper knew what he wanted, and went straight for the local channel for whatever cheesy movie it was offering. Wendy approved of the choice. It wasn't the best cheesy movie to tear into, but still, it was one that she, Dipper and Mabel could still have fun with. Even if the depressing reality, to Wendy, was Dipper's inability to see or hear her spirit mocking the movie's terrible effects. She could feel the massive rift between her and her friend, all due to the simple fact that she was physically dead. No falling out, or drifting apart as time passed. Just death. Being dead sucked hardcore, Wendy decided just then, as the vampire on TV attempted kung-fu and only she uttered a secret handshake that had been created between her and Dipper several summers before, from a bygone, happy era of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who dwells inside his body like an uninvited guest.


	6. Looking roughly the same

The afternoon faded into evening, which soon enough went down into night. Soos returned home for the evening, and Stan and the twins held a small cookout. It was a ravenous feasting for Stan and Mabel, though Dipper had force himself to eat more than a single, plain hotdog and spoonful of potato salad. He could only eat one or two bites through his second hotdog before he decided then that he was full, much to the chagrin of his family.

"C'mon, live a little!" Stan's pushing only netted Dipper two more, small bites and the rest of his cola.

"Dipper, have you even tried this potato salad?! It's the best I've ever had!"

"...Maybe later. My stomach just feels very full right now. I'd rather not puke it all out trying to stuff myself."

"Suit yourself!" Mabel happily grabbed the container and shoveled several more globs of the potato salad on her plate. "You don't know what you're missing out on, though!"

"I've had some. It's really good! I'm just not that hun--"

"You've been saying that for a while, Dipper." Mabel's voice had been tinged in stern vexation.

"I know, but I really don't feel hungry tonight." Dipper moved from his lawn chair and started to walk back inside.

"Are you sure, Dipper?"

"I'm sure, Mabel."

He had walked through the door before the conversation could go any farther, sailing upwards to the bedroom. Dipper turned on a lantern and fished through his travel bag. He pulled out a paperback novel and a stapled packet of paper; Wendy knew instantly what this was.

"Summer reading." She said alongside an annoyed Dipper, before he added a sarcastic, "Oh, this is going to be just great..." He flipped through the thick packet. "Shoulda just taken the D."

"Dipper, you're making this too easy for me."

He, of course, didn't hear this deadpanned statement, and read aloud to himself, "Read the assigned book and write any three essay topics listed. All essays must score at least a C+ or better as per the rubric dictates in order for the final class grade to be changed to a C for junior year." Dipper groaned. "Why did I agree to this?"

Dipper turned to stare at the cover of his chosen novel. Wendy caught a flash of the book's title as Dipper turned it around to inspect the tattered book and was floored in amusement.

"Oh, God, _that_ book. Oh, dude, I'm so sorry you have to read that junk. You're going to be tortured with it. Trust me, I've been there."

He continued on staring, then flipped through the pages randomly, reading tiny excerpts and sneering in disgust, before doing what everybody would do in this situation and flipped to the last page. He focused on the last sentence long enough to mentally absorb it, then coldly chucked the book back onto his bag and rummaged for his music player. Dipper hopped into bed when he found the device and earbuds, put them in, and listened with eyes closed. Eventually he had drifted off to sleep; Wendy saw an earbud fall out.

At this point, it was boring to watch her friend as he slept. Not to mention somewhat creepy. She had just turned around to let her friend get some more needed sleep when Mabel burst in, surprising Wendy and shocking Dipper awake.

"Oh, hey Wendy!"

Wendy quickly turned to Mabel. "Mabel, maybe not now."

"Why not?"

Dipper looked at his sister blearily. "Mabel, what? Were you just talking to yourself just now?" His eyes went uncrossed.

"What? No, of course not! That's silly. You're silly!"

"I could've sworn you said... Wendy?" Dipper didn't bother for a response. "Please, don't try to convince me to go ahead with summoning her. You know that I've made up my mind."

"Well, maybe you could consider... reconsidering?"

"No! Mabel, it's just not going to happen." Dipper was agitated by now, and scrubbed at a glistening eye. "I just want to move on, alright? Thinking about Wendy like that isn't going to help at all. She's dead, and I just gotta deal."

Dipper curled back into his blanket and turned towards the wall, his attempt at ending the conversation on his terms. However, Mabel prodded her brother once more.

"You're not dealing with it, though."

"Goodnight, Mabel." Dipper was officially sick of this shit.

"Just tell me you'll think about it, okay?"

A growl. " _Goodnight_ , Mabel."

"Promise?"

"Fine! I promise! Goodnight!"

Wendy tried to gesture at Mabel to end it now, but her pantomimes of zipping her lips fell on blind eyes.

"Promise what, exactly?"

Dipper shot back up and growled at his sister, eyes ablazed with fury, "Mabel, get off my goddamn back! I said I promised! What? Do I have to have it in fucking writing?!"

He had struck like a scared, wounded animal that had been poked at once too many, biting down at whatever his fangs could sink into. It had taken Wendy aback just to see how vicious Dipper had become; The Dipper she knew would _never_ do anything this intensely antagonistic towards his sister. Mabel looked forlornly at Wendy, and by her eyes Wendy guessed that this wasn't the first time something of this caliber had happened, and was something she herself was getting used to. Wendy glanced over to Dipper, who was beginning to reveal his humanity, and the shame of his actions became evident in his eyes, going from a steely cold glare to a concerned warmth. As though the Dipper she knew took over and was now on damage control.

"Mabel, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you like that. You know that, right?" Dipper, again, didn't bother with an answer. "You know that all of that really got to me. The accident, I mean. I-It's not something I can work through overnight, so maybe not now. Now being th-the good time to... you know. It's too much, you know?"

Mabel, despite the lashing, answered right back. "You've been saying that for a year, Dip. When'll it be enough?"

"I dunno. But, I get what you're going at. And I will think about it, trust me."

Wendy knew those eyes. The ones of half-lies so insidious that the person they belonged to was ignorant to its falseness. Dipper invited Mabel to an awkward make-up hug that she couldn't deny, complete with a ceremonial "pat-pat" uttered from them both. Dipper genuinely giggled from that, and his smile placated Mabel enough to begin her pre-bedtime rituals. He curled up into bed again when Mabel left. Wendy had decided to leave Mabel to her privacy, and when she returned, Mabel turned off the lantern and plopped into bed.

Dipper, though, was not asleep as Wendy had first assumed. She could see his eyes tracking his sister hawkishly, focusing on her breathing above all else. At first, it was quick and full of hyperactive life, but over many minutes it devolved into a slow and steady pace that, after a certain point of plateau, signaled Dipper to make his move. He pulled out his backpack, and put it on. He had to struggle to his feet from the weight of the bag, and Dipper nearly fell over onto his bed. He caught himself, and looked back to his sister. She was still fast asleep, and Dipper wasted no time tiptoeing out of the room and downstairs. He continued sneaking around until Wendy saw him from the attic window, where he took one more glance at the building before making a break to a trail that led directly into the woods.

Unbeknownst to Dipper, Wendy's ghost was following him from above. Almost, she didn't go; Afraid of the monster she had met a night ago, she seriously considered staying put. But a promise was made to a friend, for another, and Wendy phased through the window and caught up to her charge. She saw Dipper stop when he made it to the treeline to pull out a flashlight. It didn't turn on right away; only when Dipper was aiming it right in his face did the beam spring to life. Dipper threw the flashlight away from his eyes and Wendy heard him utter "Agh, dammit!" in surprised impulse. Wendy failed to keep a straight face at this display of Dipper being his awkward, dorky self.

He rubbed his eyes profusely, pulling his hands away twice to blindly blink out that burning sensation. The third time he stopped scrubbing at his eyes, he went down to his hands and knees and felt around for the flashlight, which had gone out when it had hit the forest floor, and after an excruciating search, Dipper's fingers brushed against the handle's textured grip. He grasped the flashlight, this time pointing it away from him while he smacked the thing back to life. Dipper readjusted his backpack and trudged forward, now with a light to point the way on the trail.

Wendy had to wonder just what Dipper was doing, sneaking away into the woods past midnight. She couldn't remember if Dipper had one of those Journals with him and was looking for something that he found on one of those pages. It didn't sound that farfetched, yet Dipper was alone and, aside from his unreliable flashlight, was in total darkness. Anything could sneak up on him and attack at a moment's notice, and that was not a possibility Wendy wanted to see happen.

Dipper paused at a fork in the trail, but instead of taking either the left or right path, made a hard right into the brush. He slowed down his walking considerably and began swinging his flashlight around, taking in the scenery, thinking hard at the sights. The beam focused towards the ground often, sweeping the trail ahead for any pitfalls, before returning its aim to the trees and shrubbery. Wendy could only observe her friend cautiously groping through the trees, and nothing else. Bored, Wendy tried to grab a rock that she could throw in virtually any direction, but her hands once again phased through any stone that she tried to pick up. Something in her mind snapped again, and she began growling.

"Uuuugh! Why can't I do _anything_? This! Sucks!" Wendy said while she swiped her hands at a tree trunk. "This sucks and I can't take mu--"

"W-woah!"

Wendy turned around and saw Dipper almost fall over from a sudden, short drop in his path. He had managed to catch himself from falling and carefully lower himself downward. Dipper turned around and looked at the ledge up close; he appeared to smile.

"Yeah, this is the one." He then took a few shaky, careful steps forward, paused, and pointed his flashlight left, searching.

Wendy came to realize then that Dipper wasn't on some monster search in the middle of the night. What he was searching for was much simpler, albeit something that was still very large, at least four times his size. Something that Wendy should have seen back when Dipper went off the trail. Why wouldn't he come here this early on, especially given how grief-stricken and lethargic Mabel described him to be after her violent end last year? Aside from the huge energy drain it would have been for Dipper to come to this place, it would have been too soon and too painful to even see this part of the woods. But now, enough pain had subsided and enough energy was restored that Dipper sought this place out once more.

A memory flooded over Wendy's senses before she realized what was happening, but refused to fight it away. After all that she went through, and all of the frustration, she wanted this small reprieve. Already, she could hear Dipper, younger and full of life, complaining about the terrain.

_"Are you sure we're going the right way, Wendy?"_

The memory took over. Night faded away, and even through the thicket of trees, the brilliant daylight pierced through. Dipper, despite having just finished a massive growth spurt, had the same hat, same vest, and same leeriness of being led through such an alien area that, really, could have contained anything. Wendy, with a striking new, blue flannel, new boots, and, for once in these expeditions, no hat, was ahead and impatiently waiting for Dipper to catch up to her, and resorted to light teasing to entice him forward.

_"Dude, I've found my way to it so many times I could do it with my eyes closed!"_

_"Nghayh!" Dipper awkwardly yelped as he nearly fell down a tiny ledge. "Please don't!"_

_Wendy laughed. "Dipper, you're being such a dork right now!"_

_"I-I'm not!" Wendy laughed again when she saw Dipper blushing. "It's just that the terrain here is really unsteady!"_

_"I thought you were used to bad terrain."_

_"Not for this area. This is entirely new! I-"_

_Wendy stopped Dipper in his tracks by shooting out her right arm to block his path, then focused her gaze to the left, scanning, before beckoning Dipper to follow. "It's right over here." She ducked under a low branch and approached a large deciduous tree; one where the lowest hanging branches were as thick as the trucks of the surrounding pines. It was here Dipper could barely see a platform constructed on two branches of equal thickness and equal height, it being further hidden by two camouflage tarps hammered into the wood in such a manner that they reached upwards and over one another at the trunk and tapered off as it approached the edge. Wendy latched herself onto the trunk and deftly climbed to this hideout and tossed down a rope ladder._

_"Come on up, dude!"_

_Dipper slowly ascended the ladder, and couldn't help but take notice of the amazing quality of this homemade ladder even as he reached the last rung and dragged himself onto the platform. He had to get himself over a protective barrier, also made out of rope, that surrounded the platform like a wrestling ring for the most part, albeit connected to many more poles so as to further prevent accidentally falling out. A large green blanket covered the platform surface from the far edge, stopping short of the edge at the trunk. A lone cooler sat under the tarp shelter._

_"This is amazing! How'd you find this?!"_

_Wendy laughed. "Do you mean the tree or this place? Because I found the tree by itself when I was, like, eight."_

_"Itself? You mean..." Dipper looked around. "You actually made this?!"_

_Wendy shrugged. "Kinda. Took until this spring to actually finish it. Bribed one of my brothers to do most of it for me so it'd actually be done, you know? So really, this was more of his work."_

_"Still though, it's... it's amazing!"_

_"Glad you like it."_

_"But... why did you make this? There's already the Shack's roof."_

_"Yeah, but it kinda stops being a secret hideout when everyone knows about it. Besides, I found this spot way before I started working there, and this spot? Absolutely perfect to just get away. It has everything: hidden, no cell service- so, you know, peace and quiet-, a great view... really, the only problem with it is that it's a little too far from my place."_

_"It's not that far."_

_"But walking suuuuucks." Wendy complained. "Dipper, can you get some drinks from the coole r?"_

_Dipper obliged wholeheartedly, having been thirsty himself. He cracked open the cooler and spotted the usual fare stuffed to the container's absolute limit, and grabbed a couple of warm Pitts before spotting an abandoned pack of cigarettes underneath a layer of soda can._

_"Hey, Wendy. Do you... smoke?"_

_"What do you--" Dipper held up the pack and Wendy went sour. "Ugh, Robbie!" she took the pack and stuffed it in her pocket. "Sorry about that, Dipper. Robbie's coming up with this lame excuse that he has to smoke so he can get a good singing voice or whatever."_

_"That... literally makes no sense."_

_"Exactly what I told him! He doesn't listen, though. S'why I broke up with his stupid butt."_

_"Wait, you guys were together?!"_

_Wendy nodded. "We were both rebounding, thought to try it again for a couple months... actually we broke up right here, after we... you know..."_

_Dipper raised an eyebrow. "...No?"_

_"Did the... thing...?" Dipper looked blank. "Like, the third time?" Dipper took a sip of his soda, and Wendy went blunt. "Dipper, I'm seventeen."_

_Dipper swallowed. "Yeah, and...?" He began to chug the can._

_"We fucked."_

_Dipper choked and sputtered so hard that he couldn't lean over the edge to release the sugary soda to the ground below in time, and instead spat up the drink all over his shirt. "SERIOUSLY?!"_

_Wendy couldn't help but laugh at Dipper's comical appearance. "Seriously. We both were kinda at that point in our last relationships, so we were both really horny, and-- Wait, how old are you? Should you even be hearing this?"_

_Dipper coughed violently. "You should have asked that BEFORE."_

_"Well, I didn't." she snickered. "Oops."_

_Dipper was failing hard to keep a smile from cracking out of the stoic demeanor he struggled to keep. He scrambled to the cooler and shook a can of Pitt before opening it and spraying the soda all over Wendy before letting out his own laughter. After the surprise wore off, Wendy ran to the cooler and got several more cans and dumped the contents over Dipper's head. Before long, both were full-on fighting, with soda as their weapons, and were cackling insanely while drenched in various brands of soda. No other sentient soul could hear Dipper and Wendy's horseplay in the trees._

_When every last drop from the cooler was expended, Wendy and Dipper sat down on the blanket, also drenched in sticky liquid. Both of them were catching their breaths, faces still red with laughter that had long since died down to occasional snickering. Finally, Wendy spoke up._

_"I completely deserved that." she giggled. "But you're replacing all that soda."_

_"Like hell I am!"_

_"Oh, no. You're not going to weasel your way out of this, Dipper!"_

_Wendy laughed, expecting Dipper to follow suit and come up with a snappy comeback, but she remained silent. By his eyes, he seemed stuck in his mind._

_"Hey, Wendy? Why did you show me this place?" Dipper finally asked. "Isn't this supposed to be, you know, your hideout?"_

_"Well, yeah, but you're special. You need your own private place out here to chill out if everyone starts to get you down, and you have a good sense of direction... plus you're only here during the summer, so... why not?"_

_"But, what if I come over here and you're here?"_

_Wendy shrugged. "Didn't really think of that, but I guess we can hang out and talk about stuff."_

_"So exactly like what we're doing now?"_

_"Yep. Just like what we're doing now. Aside from, you know, being soaked in all this soda."_

_"...Cool."_

_"Yep. Cool. And I promise you, it'll be just the two of us that knows how to get here. No one else will know. Like, I doubt Robbie remembers where this place is, so..." Wendy trailed off and let Dipper finish the thought in his head._

_Dipper smiled. "That's pretty cool of you, Wendy. Thanks."_

_"No problem."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But something hungry getting restless in your brain
> 
> 9


	7. To Mother Now Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I've been afflicted with the curse of having a ton of things to say, and then completely forgetting what they were the moment I click on the 'Add Chapter' button.
> 
> But I'd really like to hear thoughts on this fic. What works, what doesn't, you know. And if you like it, don't hesitate to share! I mean, I've been thinking of rewriting this completely once I'm done into an original novel, so I could use beta readers and other critiques, you know?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this latest chapter? Question mark because I have internalized an entire tree of doubt that questions everything I do always and it stole my axe to boot. >:T

Daylight faded into inky blackness once more. Dipper was looking up at the platform, mouth agape, happy that, at least from what the flashlight was telling him, no one had been here. Dipper swung his arms several times before latching himself to the tree trunk and beginning his ascent towards the secret bungalow. City life made it a slow process, but intense want won out over underused muscles, and he finally scuttled onto the platform.

Wendy observed Dipper settling himself in by taking off his oversized and overcapacity backpack and unpacking some necessary camping supplies. A large blanket to cover most of the platform, a sleeping bag, a pillow, an electric lamp, rope, a survival kit full of tools and first aid supplies, bottles of water, and other general camping fare. Dipper set it all up to his fancy, putting several supplies inside the bungalow cooler, set up the rope ladder, and laid down. He stayed like that for about five minutes, making Wendy wonder if he had simply fell asleep from exhaustion or was simply taking a break, considering his backpack didn't look quite empty.

He stirred and reached over to his backpack, and pulled out a sickeningly different kind of supply. Dipper first took out a few old flask bottles, possibly owned and then forgotten by his parents, and an old, tiny liquor bottle with an outdated logo, which was promptly opened by shaky hands and swigged greedily with a grimace before closed and shoved into the cooler. He peeked into the remaining pocket in his backpack before pushing out the contents. It was five and a half bottles of cough syrup.

The reveal of these supplies were like a speeding train that had crashed into Wendy's heart. Dipper was doing much worse than what Mabel had let on. Wendy certainly wasn't expecting cough syrup to be on the litany of vices her young friend picked up, let alone the alcohol, but the half-bottle was impatiently opened and emptied into an awaiting stomach regardless of how ready she was. Dipper swallowed the sludge, threw the bottle aside, and ripped open into an unopened bottle.

“Finally I can calm down...” he said to no one other than himself before chugging down the whole bottle and letting it join its fallen brethren. “But I only have four days tops of supplies.” He shivered, looking as though his short dry spell gave him hell, and he didn't even want to fathom what going without for any longer than he had would entail.

Dipper stretched back onto the makeshift bed, and pulled out an outdated handheld gaming system. Wendy looked over Dipper's shoulder. He was playing Capumon Topaz with the volume set very low. Maybe to save battery, maybe to avoid detection by a random passerby. The title music played briefly before Dipper button mashed himself into the actual game.

Wendy laid down, next to Dipper, and half watched his gameplay, which was surprisingly good, and half observed Dipper himself. She was at a loss on what to do. What could she do now that Dipper was sitting there, waiting for the drugs to take effect? She had been too shocked and confused to do anything when Dipper had pulled the liquids out. Then again, her telekinetic power was still latent, and she had no way to interact with Dipper anyway.

As of now, Wendy could only watch and wait, and eventually just observe the game Dipper was playing, until Dipper went to save and close the clamshell device. He took a deep breath, and grinned satisfactorily; the drugs were starting to kick in. Dipper relaxed considerably, and took to staring at the stars over the vista. Wendy noted his slight discontent, and looked toward where he was looking, in which Wendy saw several thin branches had grown and marred the otherwise amazing view.

“Maybe I should get some clippers and cut those...” Dipper murmured. “Tomorrow or something...” He sighed and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth as though to add to that, but it hung there, and Dipper became lost in his own thoughts. Wendy awaited what Dipper would do now intoxicated, but anticlimactically, Dipper turned to his side and began to quietly snore.

Well, better than being active in this state this high off the ground, Wendy guessed.

However, Wendy still wanted to be certain her friend was going to be okay, so she stayed by Dipper's side and guarded over him. He had worryingly succumbed to a deep sleep too quickly. Wendy got up and poked into the open cooler. Luckily, Dipper had put it in label side up, so Wendy was able to quickly spot the portion on the bottom of the label she needed to find: 80 proof. To her relief, the bottle was notably small, more like a travel bottle, and not a whole lot of the liquid was consumed. She remembered first seeing Dipper earlier that day, and how tired he had looked, and was able to rationalize that Dipper was likely beyond exhausted even with all the sleep he had caught up on throughout.

She turned back to Dipper. He had turned in his sleep again, and appeared disturbed. Wendy absentmindedly reached over to place a sisterly hand on his head, forgetting for that brief moment that, as a ghost, her spectral hand would just pass on through Dipper's physical body. That did not happen, much to Wendy's startlement. Instead, a dim glow enveloped Wendy, and her environment washed away only to be replaced by a haze of wobbly shapes and colors.

"What is this?"

_Wendy asked this question to no one, yet in a way where she hoped that someone, anyone, anything, would explain away her befuddlement. The vision clarified itself slowly, focusing first on a framed portrait nestled on a closed casket, and expanding itself from there. Flowers were few but beautifully arranged to look like they were much more in quantity than there actually was._

_Two small groups of chairs, split down the middle with an aisle, were flushed to capacity with mourners. A few were coworkers of Wendy's dad and her oldest of younger brothers, vaguely sad yet emotionless. Several more were close relatives, mostly from her mom's side, with a smattering of paternal relatives clustered around the surviving Corduroys, all of whom in differing states of silent despondence over this second loss. Manly Dan especially looked the most hurt, the death of his only daughter reopening the old wounds of the death of his wife, yet struggling to remain strong amid everything._

_Her circle of friends were situated at the side of the right group of chairs. Thompson looked uncomfortable in a suit that was too small and in a room that contained the body of his recently deceased friend. Robbie looked as though he wanted to make a beeline to his room a few doorways down, curl up and hide in his old hoodie, much like old times, but unlike those times, coping with a different beast entirely. Despite what he w anted, though, he stayed, anchored where he was by an arm clasped around a distraught Tambry. She had finished a latest round of crying, and now trembled while returning an embrace to her on again, off again boyfriend. Nate and Lee had dried tear tracks on their faces, and the two were equally silent and unusually introspective and lost in thought. The gang as a whole was broken beyond words, and thus they all sat in pained silence._

_Somewhere in the middle and nearest the doors hid Soos and the Pines. Wendy had a small chuckle at Stan's expense; He had a tired look on his face, but one more out of vague annoyance than anything, and had, without a doubt, the driest eyes in the house. Stan was sad, to a degree, but seemed to accept and move on from her passing the easiest. Soos was a sad, overstuffed teddy bear. Death of a loved one wasn't new to him, but a loved one that had so much time left had him pensive, questioning, if not for the cosmic reason of why Wendy, then of when his own closest living relative. Mabel had no frame of reference for an event such as this, and while it was obvious that she had shed many tears, was ultimately confused over how such a thing could happen to someone she knew who was as young as Wendy. Old, distant relatives that she barely knew simply did not provide that frame._

_And then there was Dipper. He was, predictably, in his best clothes, hair combed, and skin free from the grease and oil and dead skin from earlier that day, if Mabel's recollection was correct. He had a fascination with his feet, glancing up every now and then to stare at the coffin. His eyes were ringed with red and swollen with tears and blood, and were sunken in more so than what was normal for him. Dipper turned away whenever Soos, Mabel or even Stan began to attempt a kind word, and refused to hear what they had to say in-between their relatively short and shorter bursts of psychic pain. For him, that pain had been one long screech of a chalkboard. Sometimes soft, but mostly loud, and reaching near unbearable levels as the pastor in the front of the room began the service._

_The pastor said kind words, and read passages from a Bible. It all came to a head when he ended his sermon and a familiar piece of music began to play. Time froze for Wendy to take it all in on a personal level. This was the hymn that was played during her mother's funeral, up to being played on the same organ by the same organist. Wendy was confused by the choice of hymn; Mom had specifically requested the very song Wendy was hearing right then as she was dying herself. Did her Dad consider it fitting to repeat the song for his only daughter?_

_From the corner of Wendy's eye, a seat promptly emptied and she turned around from witnessing her own funeral service. Dipper had excused himself as quietly as he could, as quickly as he could once he had realized holding back in the crushing environment would be useless. He ran out of the f uneral home and collapsed onto his hands and knees, taking hitched breaths and having tears soak into the dirt. Two or three minutes went by like this before Dipper, tired out and nose stuffed with mucus, calmed down enough to hiccup out his thoughts._

_"I...I-I'm sorry..." Dipper scrubbed desperately at his face, ashamed over needing to leave the service to preserve both the peace of the observance and of his sanity. "I'm so sorry, Wendy. I ca...I couldn't... I...Y-you... I don't want..." Dipper paused to let his racing thoughts settle, then sighed._

_"It's my fault."_

And then, all at once, Wendy was ejected from the scene and back into reality as a shivering cold Dipper jolted awake, breathing hitched and heavy. He grabbed the blanket from the side that had none of his belongings on and rolled himself up in it to reheat and to hide from the memory that masqueraded as a dream. Wendy heard a soft sob choke out of Dipper before he squeezed the blanket tighter. The sky had started to brighten, illuminating the light blue blanket and giving it an unusual highlight.

Time went by, and the effect waxed, peaked, and waned before Dipper reluctantly clawed out of the blanket and rolled it up. He checked towards the horizon and its red sun just barely peeking out between some oak trees, and crawled around the bungalow, collecting his normal possessions and flashlight into his arms and various pockets. Most of his illicit supplies went back into the cooler, but Dipper took the remainder of the liquor bottle and sloppily poured its remains into a flask that he then closed, licked off, and shoved in an inner pocket stitched into his flannel. A nauseated Dipper wobbled as he descended the rope ladder. Either the alcohol or cough syrup was still active in his system, and he needed a minute to regain his balance once he reached the earth. With several carefully misaimed throws, Dipper launched the ladder back up before stumbling away from the secret hideout and back toward civilization.

Wendy needed to follow Dipper. He had no problem remembering his way back, but his balance wasn't as good as it was from before. She could do nothing to directly help, but, at the very least, if Dipper did hurt himself getting himself back home, Wendy could rush back to get Mabel. That reality didn't come to pass, thankfully, and Dipper returned to the Shack early and sobered enough to effectively cover up the night's events. His movements were more deliberate and adept. Wendy knew that it was high time to take her leave, to find help, to run over to the cemetery. It was 5:31; She could spare an hour or two for Dipper's very wellbeing. Thusly, Wendy floated up and through the roof and charged forward with strong purpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No prying spades will find you here below


	8. I had lots of questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which we temporarily interrupt feels for different feels. I am not sorry.

The cemetery seemed like the next obvious place to go, in Wendy's mind. She had a small window of time to seek out the help she needed before Dipper would truly start out his day. On one hand, it made little sense to her to want to watch over him in broad daylight, working and otherwise being monitored by the living, but on the other hand, seeing what she saw that night, it made perfect sense. Stealing off into the night, drinking and using drugs as though he had been separated from them too long and needing the privacy to pursue them. It was sickening, to say the least, and she had a dire feeling in her gut to do something. Even if the help she sought was great or minimal, Wendy desperately wanted anything that would ultimately be a service for her friend.

Although, while wandering around without a physical body, being told by Mabel and Grenda that she had died, and, of course, actually watching herself die were all fantastic signs to Wendy that she wasn't alive anymore, a tiny part of her nagged and gnawed and refused to believe in any empirical evidence. It was small and in no way overwhelmed Wendy's thoughts, but it was still making its tiny squawking just often enough that it needed to be quelled. Wendy thought, and came to a quick compromise with herself: Find her gravestone, then go seek help. It felt selfish to put the more pressing matter in the backseat, but she rationalized that a five minute detour to put that tiny doubt to rest was the better option than having it eat away at her throughout whatever length of time she'd be here.

Drifting towards the cemetery took some more time to figure out. She had often hung out at the cemetery with her friends, hung out with her ex at his nearby fusion house and funeral home, and occasionally visited her mother's grave throughout the years, most often at or around the anniversary, but these trips weren't engraved within her as well as she'd hoped. She floated up high to spot the road that would eventually end at the cemetery grounds, and dove back down once she got her bearings.

Near the end of her trek, she approached the funeral home. Curiosity forced Wendy to find the window to Robbie's room and she peeked in. Robbie was sprawled asleep on his bed, clothes and belongings strewn about, as well as several bags and a photo ID from Idaho State gathering dust on the dresser. Did the semester just end or had Robbie been back home for a while and was simply too lazy to unpack, Wendy wondered. She stayed at the window for another minute, noting how the room was more or less the same since she had last visited her friend, then continued forward, admittedly bored at what she was seeing, and commenting to herself that she'd seen him sleep before.

It was another few minutes before Wendy turned left and approached the cemetery gates. Wendy mentally smacked herself for wanting to make a lame pun, especially to herself, but she had to say it: "Deathly quiet today." The cemetery entrance itself was as quiet as it ever was. There weren't any birds nearby to chirp their morning songs, and the only real noise came the trees as a sharp wind from the east passed through them. Moving vaguely left, Wendy watched the landscape below, which was dotted in all sorts of grave markers and the occasional lavish monument. She knew where she was heading. Wendy never admitted, even to herself, of her logic skills, but this made sense to her. She just needed to float past the front of the big crypt and turn right at the grove of trees, and she'd be there. In reality, Wendy was thrown for a loop when, after passing by the giant mausoleum, the grove of trees had been changed. The dead tree planted at the edge had been removed and a small sapling had replaced it several feet away, and Wendy was specifically looking for the dead tree. Once she figured it out though, she continued forth, until she reached the headstone she wanted to find first:

Samantha Corduroy  
Born: November 8 1972  
Passed: October 5 2009

"Hey, Mom. It's been a while... sorry for not visiting more often..." Wendy looked left, then right, and spotted the headstone she intended to find:

Wendy Corduroy  
Born: March 30 1997  
Passed: June 15 2015

That settled that. She was, without anymore shadow of a doubt, officially and permanently gone. She stared at the letters and numbers, letting them sink in until they were lodged deep into her brain. Cold facts. Without really thinking, she turned back to the other grave, and began talking, groping for comfort.

"Yeah... I'm kinda sorta... really dead." she sighed. "I... this is literally so stupid. I-I'm sorry. But a ghost visiting their Mom's grave while their own is sitting right over there... it's kinda... I-I don't know what to say." Wendy paused, and looked down. "I guess... I love you, you know?"

"Hey, I love you, too."

Wendy shot her head up and spun around with wide eyes. She thought that she had gone insane when she saw no one, let alone even expecting someone in the first place, though she swore she heard the wind say it loved her right into her ear. She turned back to her mother's grave and a face darted right smack dab in the middle of her vision and startled her. Wendy reeled backwards when this happened and for a moment didn't take in the details of the figure before her, which had started to giggle. When Wendy calmed down, she gazed at the person before her and recognized immediately who it was, even after years of separation.

"M-mom?"

The woman, translucent and glowing blue much like Wendy, smiled earnestly. She wore clothing that mirrored Wendy's own; the multigenerational outdoors livelihood that infected her entire family tree gave no mercy. She had long, flowing hair, and her face was full and healthy once more, and not the thinned, pained and ragged shadow that formed during her final days. Her spirit had never been her body anyway. In fact, the spirit before Wendy was the one that had been present in her life: one full of boundless youth.

"Sup, Wendy?"

Wendy did not think. She wrapped her arms around the picturesque version of her mother before her and gave the tightest bear hug she could manage. Her mother, in turn, did the same and mussed Wendy's hair.

"Oh, Mom. I missed you so much. I missed you. I missed you." Warbled Wendy. "I missed you so much... I can't believe it!"

Her mother laughed and continued messing with her hair. "He-heyy, I missed you too."

Wendy didn't care that hugging her Mom brought no physical warmth or, really, any of the details involving the physics of two ghosts hugging one another. What did matter was they stayed in this position for as long as it needed before the embrace finally ended and mother and daughter looked each other in the eyes. This second, idyllic moment passed by quicker. Wendy felt the high of the reunion fall below a certain threshold, and could feel a blush of shame crop up across her face.

"Uh... wow. Um... Mom?"

"Yeah?"

Wendy averted her gaze and glanced around at the ground. "I'm... really sorry I died like that. I mean, really, I could have completely prevented that, but I was a butt and didn't... I mean..."

Her mother smiled gently. "What happened, happened. You didn't know."

Wendy, meanwhile, shook her head. "But it really messed up a lot of people, Mom. Especially Dipper..."

"Who?" Her Mom questioned while trying to mentally work out the answer for herself in silent thought.

Wendy could not help but sputter out indirectly. "The guy who runs the Mystery Shack, Stan... the guy who gave me the cashier job... he's Dipper's great uncle."

Her Mom's eyes brightened as it all came together. "Oh! Yeah, I know who you're talking about. I've seen that kid. He's that kid who had that crush on you when you guys met! That was hilarious!" 

"Heheh, yeah..." Wendy blushed, remembering Dipper's extreme awkwardness towards her, but paused in her thoughts. "Wait, how did you know?"

"I've managed to peek into your life from time to time. You know, like when I just want to see how you and the guys are doing, or when things are really hitting the fan and I want to help out."

"So you've still been there for us?"

"Why not? Though, I should have expected you guys could take care of yourselves right from the get-go, but it's not like I don't try to manipulate stuff in your favors anyway."

"...What do you mean by that, Mom? You kinda lost me."

"Oh, you know..." A sloppy grin plastered across her Mom's face; one that Wendy always remembered her making a lot, especially when it came to deviousness. "Ever wonder why shopping for food was unusually cheap whenever you guys went to Garry's? You know the slogan, 'All prices official and final?' Let's say I might have... tampered with the prices so you guys could keep the heat on a little more during the winter instead of having to huddle around that tiny fireplace. And when your father went hunting or fishing? Well, he hasn't gotten any better or been luckier since you were a kid. Not to bash him or anything, he's really good! But I'm just saying, I was either holding them down or dragging them towards their own deaths." She put a hand on her forehead and sputtered out a giggle. "That sounded so horrible!"

"No, that was great! You seriously were watching over us!"

Her Mom regained composure and shrugged. "Gotta do what I can to make sure you guys are alright, you know?"

Wendy nodded. "It wasn't so much that the money was tight as there was none at all..." she mused aloud. "It was crazy."

"Must've been."

The conversation petered out into an awkward silence, both parties withdrawn into their memories. Wendy especially took in what her mother had just told her, and was floored by this information. She *had* been watching them, and was easing them of their pain. 

"So what about that Dipper kid?"

Wendy's trail of thoughts broke. "Whu-?"

"How is he? I haven't seen him since last summer, and he looked really sad that you had passed."

"Dipper..." Wendy chewed her lip. "He needs help badly, Mom. I have to tell him that it's not his fault I died, but I can't until he wants to summon me. But he won't do it because he's so sure that I'm mad at him for messing up in trying to save me, but I'm not!" At this point Wendy realized she was ranting desperately; she didn't care. "Mom, I've seen him! I've followed him around. He looks terrible. He's being drinking and abusing cough syrup and just looks miserable. I have to help him! What if he dies?! Oh, God I told Mabel I'd take care of him, but I don't even know how to do anything as a ghost. I-"

"I could show you."

"...Show me? You mean how you did all those things?"

"Well, I mean, they're all skills that have to be practiced on, and being a ghost and stuff isn't intuitive..."

"Please!" Wendy begged a little too loudly. "Please... I'd love that."

Her Mom smirked. "You got me. Okay, so in terms of things you can do as a ghost, you can pretty much do a lot of things. Work with objects, check out a person's aura, see into their thoughts, talk to the living if they contact us first. Really, the main thing with most of that is mental concen...trat...ion."

Wendy noticed her Mom going wide-eyed and slack-jawed at a sight behind her. "What is it, Mom?"

"Wendy," her Mom went deathly sincere. "What I need you to do is go down into your grave, and stay there until I say it's okay. Now."

"Why? What's wrong w-"

"Now. Close your eyes too. But do it."

Wendy looked behind her, and noticed what her Mom was staring at. It looked like a monument of an angel, but with its wings concealing its entire body, its base petering out and emitting a fine mist. It was breathing, and in a second, its wings had spread out and revealed itself. It was the monster from the night before, and as its head looked up, its inhuman eyes gazed right at Wendy and her Mom. It stood up. Its wingspan was massive, and its legs were thick with muscle, in contrast to its spindly raptor arms. She became paralyzed in fear; when that thing grabbed ahold of her that night, it was as though everything was about to end for her.

"Wendy, get down!"

The monster stepped back, and leaned forward, every one of its muscles intending to pounce. Wendy jumped when something grabbed her shoulders and pushed her so violently downward, that she started to sink through the ground.

"Get down *now!*"

She finally moved into action, and sunk herself into her own grave when the monster lunged forward. Wendy closed her eyes and understood completely why this step was necessary as she nestled imperfectly inside her corpse, face down. She listened to the fracas above ground in terror. The monster had faltered when Wendy hid, but it apparently switched its target and attacked her Mom. She heard, through the muffling dirt, her Mom screaming angrily.

"You're not going to take her!" Several impact noises and shrieks from both Mom and monster shot through feet of earth. "You can take me away, but you won't ever hurt her!"

The monster roared in protest, and Wendy could hear a dull thud followed by a soft, pained groan. Wendy went cold before a weak "I'm okay." was uttered. She could only listen as the monster started getting the upper hand and her Mom started losing. Another voice, a graveled, older male's, entered and made contact with a body, likely the monster's. From what Wendy could hear, the scuffle shifted between the monster and the old man, but it was short-lived. She could hear a mighty woosh of flames, the monster's shrieking, and the man's blood-curdling screams.

"No, no, no, no, no, don't take me there, DON'T TAKE ME THE-"

Silence. Wendy remained in her casket, eyes screwed shut and listening for any little sound that she could, but the terror that had been so audible without any discernible end simply stopped. 

"Wendy," her Mom's voice wavered. "It's safe to come out."

Wendy rose to the surface and opened her eyes. Her mother was floating there, disheveled and stunned herself, but somehow unscathed.

"Du-- Mom... what was that?"

"It's a Gravekeeper. They're rare, but they're the worst thing a ghost can come across if they're not in their caskets." Her Mom went wild-eyed. "Buuuut this town is so lucky to have more than one of them, am I right?" she laughed insanely.

"I saw one the other day, Mom." Wendy spoke up, and it instantly caught her mother's attention. "It attacked me."

"What?!" Her Mom froze and Wendy could feel the fear emanate from her spirit.

"Yeah. It grabbed my wrist and squeezed my fingers before Vanishing."

It was her Mom's turn to bear hug Wendy, although instead of one of reunion, it was one of terrified protection. "Wendy, please. For your own good," Her Mom let go and stared right into Wendy's eyes. "If you see one of those things again, run. Hide. They don't go indoors or in graves. You'll be safe in there, but if they find you outdoors and it attacks you again, it will take you away to Hell for eternity. Trust me, I've seen it happen a couple of times. Including right just now with that... old man."

"Oh, Jesus..." Wendy put a hand to her head and went pale in dark realization. "I should've went down when you to-"

"Don't blame yourself, Wendy. You had no idea those things are out to catch wandering spirits to throw into Hell. They got you once but for whatever reason didn't go through with it. I'd find that to be confusing myself."

"But still, Mom..."

"Wendy, it's good to claim mistakes, but it's not going to be helpful to dwell on it. Especially not with what you're trying to do."

"So just..." Wendy bit her lip again. "Forget the guy?"

Her Mom looked bothered with her answer. "Yeah."

Wendy and her Mom floated there in another awkward silence. Wendy knew her Mom was technically right, and that, especially regarding what she had to do, she simply didn't have time to wallow in self-hatred, but that didn't make the notion to simply forget the ghost that had just saved her Mom from a fiery fate any less morbid.

"I think," Her Mom finally started. "It's time to get going. That thing is going to come back soon for, really, either of us."

Wendy became disturbed at this news. "But I don't want to leave you yet."

"I know you don't want to. But you need to be safe."

She protested, "I need to help Dipper though!"

"You need to be safe." Her Mom sternly repeated.

"I need help to help him..." Wendy looked down, knowing her fight was a losing battle.

"Remember what I said before that thing showed up, Wendy? It's all mental concentration."

Wendy shook her head. "I don't get it."

Her Mom smiled, though her face looked rushed. "You will. Now please, get going."

"O-okay..." Wendy went in to hug her Mom once more. "This won't... I mean, will I see you again?"

Her Mom reciprocated the hug. "Of course. I'll be floating around."

"Mom, that was terrible."

A giggle. "I know. Couldn't help it." They broke their hug and looked each other in the eyes. Her Mom smiled sincerely. "Goodbye, Wendy."

"...Bye Mom."

Wendy hesitantly drifted up and away from her Mom. She stopped several times to look back. On the first time, her Mom was still watching her, grinning and waving goodbye. The second time, she had vanished back into her grave. It gave Wendy enough of a push to sail away at full speed back for the Mystery Shack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the five minutes when I was dead to the world


	9. Drink From This Cup

There was little time to take a breather once Wendy returned to the front of the Shack. Soos and Melody had just arrived in Soos's old pickup, and were waiting on the Pines to come out. Dipper, wide awake, had opened the door to let them in first. His face was etched with second thoughts about the idea, but he still slapped on a polite grin and light conversation while the other two Pines rushed to get themselves ready. Finally, Stan and Mabel showed up, the former with his set of car keys, and they all piled into his van. Wendy ducked into the van as well, though using her own powers to keep herself inside and not be left behind. Luckily, Mabel had claimed shotgun, so the chances of Mabel becoming distracted and possibly upsetting her twin brother was low.

Dipper appeared agitated as the van rolled down the road into town. It was a different road than the one Wendy had taken on that fateful day, but the agitation was stemming from something else.

"So where are we going, exactly?"

"Goin' down to Susan's, kid. It's the only place that opens this early."

Dipper went pale and began to bounce his leg. "Really?"

He tried to keep a poker face, but Wendy could see that this choice had dug deep into his emotional scars regarding the whole ordeal. Dipper licked his lips and forced his leg to remain still, though the paleness continued to show. Had she been in the back, Mabel would have known something was seriously wrong with her twin. As a result, Dipper's distress went under the radar as conversations came and went without any of his input. He fidgeted with his hands in lieu of bouncing his legs.

"Heh. I can see you're excited about this, huh?" Soos noted.

"N-not so fond of getting a haircut." Dipper lied. "Do I have to get a haircut, Grunkle Stan? I like my hair like this."

"You're not talking your way out of this, Dipper. The hair goes. And speaking of hair, can't you wash your face every once in a while? You're covered in pimples!"

"It's called being a teenager."

"Grunkle Stan has a point, Dipper." Mabel said. "You kinda look... ehhhhhh... grotesque?"

"Thank you for the compliment." Dipper glared at the back of Mabel's seat.

"I didn't mean it like that!"

"Okay, show of hands." Stan huffed. "Who here thinks Dipper should clean his face more?"

Stan already had his hand raised. Mabel's came next. Soos and Melody hesitated before poking their hands up as well.

"Sorry, dude."

Even Wendy had to admit that Stan was right. He was a jerkass, but right. She raised her hand, not that it meant anything at this point.

"It's settled then. I want to see your face washed every day."

Dipper sputtered, but gave up. "Whatever..."

"Also a shave. You need a shave."

"I'm drawing the line on that one, Stan." Dipper sighed, "But, you know, whatever..."

Dipper looked outside the window, and his worry, which had been smothered by the conversation, ratcheted back up and beyond what he had experienced before. They had just pulled into the parking lot, and Stan had no problem trying to find a spot before everyone got out. His legs shook, and he went pale again. Mabel hung back when she saw her brother going into distress.

"Are you going to be alright, bro?"

Dipper grimaced. "N... y-yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine."

He bravely walked forward without another word, bracing himself for whatever emotions he might experience once inside. Dipper and Mabel caught up with the rest of the party and were quickly whisked away to a booth once inside. It was different than the one Dipper, Mabel and Soos had been on that day, yet it was still in the same general area, near the window.

Once the menus were handed out, and Mabel had snapped a photo of herself and her gaunt, unenthusiastic brother, Dipper excused himself to go to the bathroom. Wendy wondered if she should follow him in; she wasn't sure if he went before leaving. She looked at Mabel, who just so happened to be facing in her direction, and Mabel looked back, apparently giving her the go-ahead. Best case scenario and worst case scenario, he was using the facilities as intended.

"Well... I promised her to look after him..." Wendy said to herself as she floated in front of the bathroom door. "It's not like you haven't seen a dick before, but still... this is just weird, man."

Wendy carefully entered the restroom, seeing that none of the three stalls had their doors closed, and Dipper wasn't near the sinks. Wendy thought that she was going crazy until she heard deep breaths. She poked into the open stalls and quickly found her friend, eyes closed and focusing on breathing. Dipper sitting on the toilet trying to calm himself. It was working to a very minimal extent.

"It'll be fine." Dipper said in a hushed tone. "I'll be fine. This is good for me. Harrison said that revisiting these places with an open mind would be good. I can..." Dipper frowned, a sour note crossing through and ruining his train of thought. His legs started bouncing again. He took a deep breath, one of annoyance, and opened up his flannel shirt and pulled out the flask.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Dipper opened up the cap and tipped about a shot and a half of the powerful liquor into his mouth and down his throat, before closing the flask and putting it back in his hidden pocket.

"Ugh..." Dipper groaned, obviously ashamed at himself. "Why am I dragging myself down like this? This isn't *like* me." Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose and restarted his deep breathing. "Shouldn't have done that. I *promised* myself I wouldn't start doing this over here but here I am, doing it."

Dipper was silent, save for his breathing, then pulled his hand away from his face and unhunched his shoulders. For several minutes he continued to relax, more than likely from the alcohol more than his breathing. He finally stood up and made his way to the sink. Wendy noticed Dipper's face turning the slightest tinge of red as he did, and his walking had the tiniest bit of a sway to it. She guessed as he was washing his hands and splashing water on his face that Dipper was starting to feel that warm buzzing swim around his brain. It was a feeling Wendy had known well enough through her own experimentation with the guys. She smiled a little reminiscing of those times. Thompson was such a lightweight.

She snapped back to attention when Dipper ripped out several paper towels from the dispenser to scrub his face dry. He easily plastered on a wide cheshire grin, studying and adjusting himself in the mirror to achieve a passable level of genuineness. It became more evident the more happy thoughts were shoved through his psyche, themselves being easier to achieve as the alcohol worked, helped immensely by an empty stomach. Wendy saw the smile waver as Dipper walked back into the diner, but it held.

"Hey, guys!" Dipper said while he sat back down and pulled the menu up to his face.

"Hey, dude!" Soos answered back. "Was about to go get you. Everyone's ready to order."

"Sorry, guys. I, uh, forgot to go before we left." Dipper leafed through the menu and found what he wanted.

"You were up before any of us. How could you have possibly forgot?" Stan saw through the facade.

"...I dunno. Just did."

And that was that. The conversation morphed and swam towards different topics. Dipper had much more of a presence this time around, worries apparently shed away for the time being. He was happy, and having fun with his sibling and friends for the first time since he had arrived. Wendy observed from behind the twins for the most part, on occasion poking over to the other side to get a better view of Dipper's state before returning to her post. She and Mabel made eye contact; Wendy said nothing, but attempted to send a message in her eyes that something wasn't right with her twin brother by looking intently at Mabel and glancing over to Dipper for a fraction of a second. She wasn't sure if Mabel got this message, being too distracted by Dipper's insistence to a pancake eating challenge.

Well into the meal, Wendy had gotten insanely bored. Mabel had make a clear break into her pancakes right at the beginning, leaving a nauseous Dipper as the definitive loser in his own challenge. Melody and Soos agreed, if and when they had kids themselves, they would totally condone these contests and even act as referees. Dipper avoided becoming too drunk due to the help of the pancakes he had eaten and so flew under everyone's radar. Wendy wished that she could enter the conversation in some way without making Mabel look as though she had snapped or, worse, was mocking her brother, and thus that possibility was out of the question.

Wendy floated around the diner, pacing about and stopping every once in a while to eavesdrop on other conversations. A couple were arguing quietly over bills. A small child was retelling the amazing day he had yesterday to his mother. Two friends were planning out the day ahead of them. A business man at a tiny table was talking to his wife on his phone, and had been before they had arrived, if the ignored mug of ice cold coffee was any indication. Suddenly, he shoved a receipt into his pocket, stood up and left the building in a hurry. The cup remained on its small island as its sole resident, and as a beacon. Wendy had gotten so bored of even listening in on other people that the previous day's struggle played out in her mind. Wendy shrugged, having a hard time believing that she could hit that sweet spot that would give her another outlet to the physical world. Still, she stared at the object, and desperation won over. She needed to do more in this world than passively listen.

"Mom said something about concentrating?"

Wendy reached out to grab the cup, and again, her fingers went right through the ceramic. She didn't want more of this crap, and already she was getting frustrated. Her mom's words bubbled through her head again. Concentrate. Mental skill. It caused Wendy to try a different tack. She simply stared at the mug, let its shape etch out a place inside her skull. She thought of how it would feel in her hands, weighted down by the fluid inside, and how it would move across the table. She brought up a hand, but didn't reach out to touch or grab. Instead, she lightly swiped it across her body. Wendy's spirits flagged as nothing happened, but she willed herself to keep concentration. She squinted her eyes and tensed up, further building up this mental energy that, as it grew, became more odd and alien.

Then the mug was ran off the table and shattered when it met the floor. It caught the attention of the entire diner. Wendy was startled herself and pulled away for a brief moment. Then she smiled. She had did it. She felt that mental energy transform itself to a paranormal force and had it do what she wanted. Wendy looked at Mabel with a goofy grin and pointed at the mess of coffee and ceramic that was already being cleaned up by Susan.

"Dude, look at it! I did it! Holy crap, I did it!"

Wendy tensed up, fists over her mouth, and squeed in delight. She realized she had to look like an excited child that had just accomplished something for the first time to Mabel, but she didn't care. Wendy had just discovered fire, and the possibilities were endless! Mabel excused herself to go out behind the diner with Wendy and celebrate with her, screaming and squealing with her ghostly friend that just made her look like a lunatic by anyone who could have possibly passed by.

"Did you see that, Mabel?!"

"Uh, yeah! That was incredible!"

"I know, right?! Oh man, I still can't believe it!"

"What did it feel like?"

"That's the crazy part! I was concentrating as hard as I could until this weird energy took over!"

"Ghosty powers!"

"Ghosty powers!" Wendy laughed hard, happier than she had been since shortly before her death. "Mabel, it feels like I can do anything! Like, do you think I could lift that dumpster? I want to lift that dumpster! Dude, I'm gonna lift that dumpster!"

"Woah, are you sure you can? I mean, you moved a coffee mug. Can you really move from mug to giant dumpster?"

"Uhh..." Wendy hated when other people were right, "Right! I-I knew that! You should know by now that I'm testing you, Mabes."

"You're not upset?"

"No, actually you brought up a pretty good point. That's way too big of a step. I should practice on--"

Wendy caught a glimpse of something staring her down, far away into the treeline. Fears ratcheted up. She wasn't sure if it was simply wildlife or something more, but the way its eyes glared and burned into Wendy's being gave her enough of an alarm to want to flee inside. But Mabel was standing right in front of her, excited about Wendy's accomplishment. To suddenly duck back inside of the diner would alarm Mabel and cause her spirits about helping Dipper plummet. To stay meant risking the possibility of being thrown into the abyss, and if that came to pass, having Mabel's spirits crash and burn into endless despair. Wendy didn't think about the implications of what she was going to say until it was too late.

"--some of the junk over in the Shack. I mean you guys are probably not going to be there for a while, so why not? It'd be the perfect place until you guys get back." Wendy hoped Mabel didn't sense the disturbance in her voice, and to a negligible amount of relief, she hadn't.

"Sounds good. You wouldn't have much fun hanging around here anyway. I mean, Dipper's getting a haircut. How fun would it be to watch that?"

"Heh-heh. Yeah, I know. Anyway, I'll seeya back there."

Wendy expected Mabel to keep talking and stall her, but she hadn't. Wendy was allowed to float away, and waved a goodbye to Mabel as she headed back into the diner. Once Mabel was out of sight, though, Wendy focused back to where those eyes had been instinctively. It didn't matter to her if they had remained or if its body moved somewhere else, as Wendy soared up, over the trees, and launched herself forward, faster than she had before, to shelter. She wished that she had suggested literally any other place, even if it did mean watching a boring haircut appointment. How fast did those monsters travel, and how long could they wait outside before losing interest and moving on? She didn't want to be stuck in one place indefinitely while saying she'd be in another. Besides, the Mystery Shack could be considered a second home for the time being, a place of absolute safety and personal relevance. That beats out barber shop any day.

It was a surprise to learn not only just how fast ghosts could potentially travel over the land, but also of just how much this had made Wendy out-of-breath. It was an odd feeling: Her chest was still ever since she re-entered the world, and it still was, but Wendy sensed that choking all the same, the one of breathing only to have those bronchial tubes close up before the lungs were filled to capacity. She didn't cough. She couldn't. She was forced to slow down considerably as she approached the Shack before that weird feeling in her chest could get any worse and stop her in her tracks. It would leave her open and vulnerable to the Gravekeeper. Or Gravekeepers. Didn't her Mom say there were more than one around here? Wendy wondered. She had been too paralyzed mentally and physically to register anything other than the fact that this thing would be her demise. She crashed onto the floor of the Shack's store supine, floating on very minimal effort on her end, and remained there until the crushing in her lungs subsided. When she got up, at around 9 by the room's clock, Wendy crept forward and looked through the window.

She had been right all along; The monster was there, out on the lawn, in full view. Wendy realized that it was some monstrous fusion of a bent over human being and an ancient predatory bird. Its body was covered from the waist-up with feathers illuminated by the bright morning light. Only its head's downy feathers were off-white; every other feather on its body were either of the dark gray of a raptorous bird, or of the pure, snow white wings reserved only for the purest of angels. Its humanesque face had a gaping hole where the nose would have been, and whatever skin that was not covered by feathers had a mottled grey-green that made little sense or care about its pattern. Its waist led down to legs that were shaped like a human's, and muscled as such, but with its dried scales of skin having them become more avian the further they went down, finally reaching quintdactyl feet: the "thumbs" of these feet pointing inward, close to the rear of the foot. It was hard to tell these last details as a perpetual fog kept rolling forth from the beast from the waist down, but could be pieced together as the fog waxed and waned.

Its froggish eyes glared at Wendy, and by its expression, looked vaguely annoyed at its situation. Wendy, now having rode the wave of paralysis that had taken ahold of her when taking in this spectacular beast, grinned malevolently at this predator. She was safe inside, and thus this thing could not take her away. She taunted the beast, waggling both middle fingers with outstretched arms.

"Oh, what's wrong? Can't get inside? What are you, scared? Chicken? Ha-ha! That's what you are! One giant asshole of a chicken! Come at me! I dare you! Why dontcha come at me, bro?" She continued mocking the monster even as the fog thickened and it took its leave. "Are ya gonna run away? Well, aren't you a defeatist? Are you even going to try to come in?"

Only when it had vanished completely did Wendy calm down, still grinning at her fortuitous circumstance. Now that the monster was gone she spun around several times to pick an object at random to start her training regimen. It was a wrench, probably left out from the day before by Soos, lying on a counter. With two highs cheering her on, she went down to work to place the wrench across the room, next to the cash register.

About two hours passed, and all Wendy had to show for it was a wrench stuck on the floor and flagging, annoyed morale. Whatever magic touch she had conjured up at the diner just wasn't working now. The wrench would occasionally rattle and move several inches, but not much else. Wendy did celebrate a little the one time she lifted the wrench a few feet off of the ground, but the more time that passed without an encore, the more the accomplishment seemed to mock her. She tried the same tactic she had at the diner: Find the shape in her mind, mentally feel the wrench and how it was weighted, and concentrate. All those things clicked, but that final push just wasn't happening.

The gift shop door swung open just as she gave up, and the party that had left earlier in the morning returned. Dipper's hair, still somewhat wild and bushy, had been cut down to an acceptable length and tameness, and his face was shaved clean. He had an air of desperation about him, one that bothered Wendy into just what had happened up until the rest of the group came inside.

"I still can't believe this."

"Telling ya, kid. It's true." Stan placed a wrinkled hand on his grand nephew's shoulder. "Soos's moving away to Portland soon and you're gonna be his mechanical apprentice until then. Among other things around here."

"Sorry, Dipper." Soos apologized. "Me and Melody really wanted to tell you at the diner, but we kinda had a hard time."

Melody nodded. "Yeah. You looked so down when we left that when we saw you having fun with Mabel we just couldn't ruin it."

"But why? I mean I know you two are getting married really soon, but why are you doing this?"

"You know how my Abuelita passed a few months ago?" Dipper nodded. "Well, before that, she said that I'm totally allowed to do my own thing and be happy, even if it meant selling the house I grew up in to do it. In fact, that's what she specifically asked. And I really want to live with Melody, you know? She means the world to me. When the house is sold, I'll be moving to her apartment. I can last for a while on the house money while I go to mechanic school and get a job there and stuff. Maybe start a business, who knows?" Soos chuckled. "But really, that's all there is to it. I'm moving on to a new part in my life."

"Well then..." Dipper sighed. Wendy saw the amount of force that was given towards producing a fake smile and a positive lilt. "I hope everything works out for you, Soos."

"Yeah! And don't worry about it too much, dude. We can still talk online like always. Maybe you and Mabel could come visit sometime?" Soos turned to Melody for approval; she nodded her head instantly with a genuine smile on her face and two thumbs up. "Yeah! It'll be great, guys!"

Mabel agreed wholeheartedly to this plan as well, even suggesting to Dipper that they'd visit at the end of the summer, before heading home. Dipper nodded, adding a "Sure." if only for appearances.

"What's this thing doing on the floor?" Grunkle Stan noticed the wrench and picked it up, a whole foot away from Wendy's floating spirit. "Has someone been in here since last night?" He scratched behind his neck, more confused than angry, and turned towards everyone. "I coulda sworn I saw this thing over there last I saw it." Mabel, being the only person to see Wendy inside the room with them, was the only one to shrug falsely. "In any case, I gotta open up this place already. You guys get to work. Soos, you can drop off your wife or whatever back home, but once you do come straight back here."

"Yes sir, Mr. Pines!"

Melody waved goodbye to the Pines as she and Soos left for the pickup truck. Mabel noticed, by the pained looks in both her brother and her dead friend's faces that Dipper needed some cheering up, though before she could show Dipper the new cashier stool, Dipper excused himself for the bathroom again. Stan had told him to make it quick as the first tour would start in five minutes; Dipper responded with an affirmative grunt. Wendy needed to follow, to make sure that this would just really be a genuine trip to the bathroom, and not what she had seen at the diner.

What played out was exactly what she had seen at the diner, complete with Dipper returning with a manufactured smile to hide behind. Faking a happiness that'd never turn real. It was both depressing and uncomfortably sickening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your actions all are justified


	10. Will I See You Again?

It was a comfort to Wendy over the course of the next few days that Dipper was at his most normal during the day, especially when distracted by work duties. Of course it was an understatement, when contrasted with the rest of Dipper's time; She had caught Dipper sneaking off to take a sip from his flask at least twice, particularly when confronted by a reminder that brushed against him too abrasively, and of course, sneaking off into the woods almost every night to get high off of his dwindling reserve of cough syrup. But she was secure enough in trusting the Pines twin to his own devices while at work that she wandered off the Shack's grounds and spent her time back in her old bedroom, practicing her telekinesis in a place totally shut off from the living world, with little chance of being disturbed and, in turn, disturbing a passerby. 

Progress was slow but assured; Wendy couldn't tap into that psychic energy that made it possible to break the cup all the time, but she found those bursts of energy were fading to a more reliable, longer lasting din. Wendy had used this energy to mess around with what were her belongings, and by the third day of rigorous practice had managed to plug her old TV back in and turn it on. The volume was still set to the last time it had been shut off, though, and Wendy scrambled to hit the set's button to turn it down before anyone living that might have been in her house could notice and investigate. Wendy did a check anyway, returning to her room once she was certain the house was empty. She fiddled around with the old television and flipped through the channels via the set's buttons before stopping on the local station, which was playing some old, cheesy horror movie, then kicked back to allow herself a break; trying to rotate the plug in the right way got especially hard as her powers weakened, after all.

Wendy forgot the title to this movie, but remembered what it was about. Or at least, what Dipper had summarized the movie as when they watched it years ago: An unloved delinquent making the stupid decision to trust some mad scientist he had just met only to be turned into some weird half-human, half-lizard hybrid that was also somehow 50 feet tall.

_"In summary," Dipper said near the end, "Don't talk to strangers, especially if they're mad scientists, unless you have absolutely no regard for your life."_

_"Or have a severe case of buttbrain." Wendy had added._

_"Yes. It would have to be a terminal case, though."_

_"One that could only be cured by a mad scientist?"_

_"I... well, we've reached full-circle, then." Dipper laughed softly._

Movie evenings were always the best evenings during the summer. Usually, both Pines twins would be present, as well as at least one of Wendy's friends. Maybe two. Once, all her friends were in here, jeering the plot and cheesy special effects while rubbing against one another. But Dipper had a fondness for tearing apart these movies. So much so Wendy couldn't help but poke into her dad's tapes and borrow a few of them to show Dipper one night. She hadn't thought that Dipper could turn that particular shade of red by laughing, but lo and behold, those tapes had to be stopped several times just so he could catch his breath.

_"Well dude, it turns out you and my dad love robots making fun of bad movies." Wendy had mused._

Wendy had greatly underestimated Dipper, though, as throughout that that week he had sucked the Shack's paltry bandwidth almost dry watching different episodes late at night, and by the end of that summer had watched through half of the series oh his own. By the end of the year he had barreled through the them all, and started re-watching some personal favorites. Around April or May came another genius idea from Wendy; finding the worst of the worst and having movie night at the Shack. Dipper was ecstatic about the idea, and helped out by nabbing a copy of The Place to bring over. Soos had found Plan 11. Wendy herself even found the movie about the cat invasion, whose name escaped her.

It was a night to behold, but one that never came to pass. The day that was supposed to end in movies had ended with Wendy dead. She wondered if Soos and Mabel tried to reorganize that night for later in the summer, if only for Dipper's sake. She hoped so. She would have liked that.

The sudden air pressure of the front door as it opened inward shook Wendy out of her daydream, and knew instinctively by the quick footfalls that the middle of her younger brothers had come home and was on a beeline to his room. Wendy had to redirect her focus on a dime and use her ghostly telekinesis to yank the TV's plug from the wall. The psychic energy slipped from her fingers several times, but when she did get ahold of it, static electricity exploded from the set's screen as the picture died. She could hear her brother stop in his tracks momentarily, potentially wondering if he had heard or felt something, before continuing forth to the room next to Wendy's for some needed relaxation.

"Uuugh. Dude, seriously? You had to come home now."

Somehow, she thought she had much more time, and it didn't quite feel fair that, at just past noon, her second brother had crashed back home and unexpectedly ended her practice. A mixture of fifteen minute's worth of boredom and curiosity dragged her back over to the Shack. The whole idea of being brought back into some form of earthly existence had really begun to gnaw at her, and Mabel's mentioning of Dipper's notes now had her intrigued for a while. When she entered the attic, she saw that it was devoid of life, though this wasn't exactly surprising to her given the twins were working downstairs. They would probably break for a late lunch in fifteen minutes, however, so Wendy realized that she had to work quick.

This was a rare time where she actually wanted to study, something she couldn't help but chuckle at as she dragged the box out from under Mabel's bed and opened it. Like Mabel, she upturned the box to let the contents spill out onto a clear portion of the floor, and started picking through them, albeit, having her curiosity turn towards the newspaper articles first.

The town of Gravity Falls was horribly awoken yesterday by the sudden death of a lifelong resident by vehicular accident. Wendy Corduroy, 18, had been driving downhill and had struck into a semi truck coming off the highway. She had been taken to Gravity Falls Hospital, where she was soon declared dead from catastrophic blood loss. ...Eyewitnesses say that she had been picking up speed and was honking her horn, which police say may indicate that there may have been a malfunction in the brakes, but investigations are still impending, which may be difficult given the extent of fire damage the car had sustained. ...Family could not be reached for comment.

Wendy halted with a lump in her throat and placed all of the clipping back into the box. Even scanning through the articles was getting her emotional, and she needed to work towards an end. She took control of her energy and started going over the notebook. It was like a free form diary; There were sentences here and there, even full paragraphs and pages, clearly detailing inner thoughts, but they were greatly outnumbered by increasingly frenetic scribbles of handwriting full of research and diagrams of various resurrection rituals. She hit a page where one ritual was circled multiple times, multiple yeses underlined and pointing towards said circle, with one arrow pointing towards the next page. Wendy flipped the page and marveled at a supply list, each entry checked and checked again, next to doodles of these supplies; a black book save for a cross, a vial filled in with red marker, some necklace...

Wendy turned the page again and was greeted with two giant blocks of texts spread out across both pages, detailing how this was going to be the best day of Dipper's life since the accident, rambling onward about how everything would be fixed and his consciousness finally cleared. The two pages were splotched by dried circles, two of them a deep red, but most of them clear. Wendy braced herself, and continued forth for the final page. A solemn, offset half-page journal entry. When Dipper must have realized that his idea wouldn't work. It simply stated the facts: Mabel showing him the key detail he had missed, of his stupidity, of--

The door swung wide open, and Wendy turned around, completely expecting, with the energy the door had left when it hit the wall, to see Mabel. She could feel her body freeze and her heart sink when she saw Dipper standing in the doorway. He was holding the last bites of a large sandwich, a testament of living one of his better days. At least, up until he saw the spectacle before him. He ate the final bite, swallowed, then crept forward. Wendy moved out of the way, watching Dipper kneel down and look at the small mess she had made. He stared at the open notebook for a few minutes, leafing backwards, then forwards, before putting it in the box. He could only stare dumbly through the smaller notebook until he silently gathered everything into the cardboard container, and placed it onto his lap. Dipper weakly hugged the box while staring into it.

Wendy didn't just want to float there and do nothing. She thought to take the box away from Dipper, and almost went through with it, but stopped. Somehow, she thought, Dipper most likely wasn't quite in the right frame of mind to rationalize such an action as anything else but belligerence by a paranormal force. Then, a crazy thought coursed through her mind. The first full night, she had accidentally accessed a memory Dipper was reliving in his dreams. A power her Mom had mentioned as something ghosts could do.

"So what if..." Wendy concentrated, moving both hands outward and grazing Dipper's hair. She was nervous that this wasn't going to work, and almost pulled away due to this lack of confidence, but in spite of herself, closed her eyes and grasped into Dipper's mind.

_Wendy opened her eyes and found herself in the attic of the Mystery Shack. At first, she hadn't known if her idea had worked, until she did a quick scan of the room. Key differences in clothing strewn about made Wendy fully aware of the fact that she was in fact looking inside a memory. Judging by the patterns of light and shadow in the room, Wendy assumed that it was late in the afternoon. Below her was Dipper, bursting at the seams in manic energy while collecting an assortment of objects near the center of the room. A black, leather-bound book with its own long, ribbon bookmark sat under a small rope of beads and matches. The gold cross adorned on the cover let Wendy know that it had to be a Bible. And yet, the page from a spiral notebook nestled to the side of the book appeared as though it contained words from another realm in one column and a pronunciation guide on the other. Wendy had to wonder just what this ritual had in store._

_"Okay, do I have everything I need?" Dipper asked only to himself. "Let's see..." Dipper shuffled through several hand-written papers and, as he went through his supplies, put them in one by one into his backpack. "Got the incantation, religious text on death and rebirth, half-full vial of my blood..." Dipper glanced at the knife he had used to cut a small hole in his wrist for this purpose and shuddered; Wendy could tell that Dipper obviously didn't like that, and unintentionally let out a small chuckle at what had to had been a swallow the frog moment. He absentmindedly tossed the knife into the backpack and continued forth with inventory._

_"...matches, candles, prayer beads, the instructions... can't forget that." Dipper thought, the quickly zipped up his backpack. "I think that's it. Now, so long as I don't get detoured I should make it to the cemetery before sundown." He looked in the mirror and combed through his hair a little using his fingers, then grinned softly at himself. "You're going to do it, Dipper. You're going to bring Wendy back. You're going to_ fix _this."_

_Then Dipper sailed downstairs with his heart elated, and Wendy's spirit followed suit. With his heart and spirits sunk so low for weeks before realizing that he could still do something to save one of his best friends aside from his twin, and the endless nights of laser-guided research and calculation to make sure everything would be perfect, this feeling of absolute euphoria left Dipper feeling on top of the world. Despite not wanting distractions earlier, Dipper took a detour to the kitchen to pick up several water bottles for the midsummer trek ahead of him. While he vaguely noticed Mabel was there, and almost collided with her while turning towards the table, Wendy had spotted her immediately._

_"Here we go..." Wendy uttered worryingly in the same moment Dipper scraped past his sister._

_"Woah! Sorry Mabel! Didn't see you there!"_

_Dipper continued forth and downed the remaining cup of coffee he had made for himself hours before. It was thick and congealed, a result of using older coffee as water when making it. Wendy noticed that Dipper looked like he had barely slept in the last several days, if the ever deeper circles around his eyes indicated anything. He was running purely both on this concoction perfect for a heart attack, and the excitement of seeing his friend, alive once more._

_"Where are you going, Dip?"_

_"I'm gonna do it!" Dipper couldn't contain his excitement and giggled. "I'm gonna bring Wendy back! This is going to be great, Mabel! She's going to be alright! We'll all be together again! But I gotta get there soon or I'll have to wait another day to do this, and I can't wait!"_

_Mabel yelped out. "Dipper, wait!"_

_"What did I just say? I can't!" Dipper wasn't the least bit mad, at least emotionally, and started for the back door. "I'm gonna be back soon!"_

_Mabel moved in front of the door before Dipper could reach it. "Dipper, wait! I think you might have missed something important!"_

_"Mabel, I don't have time for your games!" Dipper said, more agitated than what he had wanted, and messed with the bandage on his wrist. "I gotta get there before the sun sets!"_

_Mabel, in response, pulled out a scrap of newspaper from her sweater pocket and shoved it into her brother's face. "Read this!"_

_Dipper had to adjust his focus to the scrap being held right in front of his face, but it didn't take long for him to notice the formatting and, more importantly, the recent school photo of Wendy near the top._

_"Mabel, this is her ob...obituary." Dipper faltered. "I don't have time to..."_

_"Read it!"_

_"Mabel, no, I-"_

_"Read it to me!"_

_Dipper sighed, and grabbed the relatively still immaculate cut-out from his sister's hands. "Fine, Mabel, but this is gonna be quick." he warned, before clearing his throat. "Wendy Corduroy: Born on the 30th of March, 1997, died on the 15th of June, 2015." Dipper almost choked on those words. "Wendy was full of life and always sought out fun with her friends and family. Recent accomplishments include graduating Gravity Falls High School, being a long time employee of the Mystery Shack, and signing up to be an organ donor shortly after her 1 8th birthday. She is survived by her father and three brothers. A private ceremony..." Dipper's eyes widened as a delayed realization hit him. "...will be announced in the next couple of days. Monetary donations welcome." He paused. "...signing up to be an organ donor..." he repeated. "I... missed that?" he went silent._

_"Dipper-" Mabel started._

_"Why didn't you tell me sooner?!" Dipper swiped and missed his sister with a poorly aimed punch, his knuckles colliding instead with the counter. "You could have told me this so much sooner! You could have told me this when I was reading this damn thing over and over again! This changes everything!"_

_Mabel appeared hurt, even with the punch failing to connect. "Well... you could still..."_

_"No! What if she had one of her organs put into someone else? Unlikely as it is, what's gonna happen to them if I resurrect her? What'll happen to _her _? It's resurrection! It's not like she can just grow new organs! She's gonna have to have them back if she's gonna live, but it's gonna kill the people that were saved by her! And..." Dipper looked down, more facts hitting him. "And she probably had an autopsy anyway. She had to be taken apart on the inside, but not put back together." Dipper moved to the kitchen table and sat with his head in his hands. "What if I resurrect her and she's in that state? She's going to be in so much pain before she ends up dying again. The ritual... it doesn't take into account of_ any _modern medical practice! It assumes people simply die and get buried. Oh man, how did I not_ see _that?"_

_Dipper's head slid out of his hands and nestled on the stained table, saying nothing. His breaths came in deep and forced into control. His hands found his hair, and clasped repeatedly at the same general clumps momentarily before it petered out, along with his heavy breathing, and he just sat there, heart shattered, world around him desaturating._

_"I'm... sorry for trying to punch you, Mabel. I-I'm going to bed." He finally sighed, and painfully, he dragged himself upright and, defeated, trudged himself back upstairs to mourn all over again._

_Then came a fast-forward. Wendy saw that it was the dead of night, 3 AM according to a desk clock, and both siblings were in their beds. Mabel was snoring gently, dreaming good dreams, and snuggling Waddles, himself dreaming whatever dreams pigs have. The opposite bed's blankets slowly bubbled and bulged before Dipper's tired head poked out from under. He looked to be an overheated mess, evidenced by clumps of hair having stuck to each other and a thickening layer of oil and sweat that covered his face. Dipper uncovered himself and sat up in his bed, face beyond tired and apathetic, all energy and emotion crushed out of him. Still, he forced himself awake, thinking deeply, but with eyes closed. Wendy began to assume that Dipper had fallen asleep after a certain point, although ultimately she withdrew the idea. She was looking at Dipper's memory; if he had fallen asleep, wouldn't she have been seeing a dream or, more likely, gotten booted out of Dipper's mind?_

_Dipper's eyes fluttered open dejectedly, and he turned to stand up to pad ever so softly to his backpack. He slowly pulled back the zipper and started to remove its contents, one by one. The matches and candles came first, then the prayer beads, Bible, the knife, the papers, and finally the vial of blood. He looked at each object carefully, contemplating in silence. Wendy moved in close, wondering if Dipper was going to say anything or if he was going to be left staring at these objects. And indeed, he spoke to himself, voice box barely vibrating, quiet as he could._

_"Should probably give these back before Grunkle Stan notices." Dipper mumbled, recategorizing the pile mindlessly. Aside from the beads and the papers and, most obviously, the blood, it seemed to Wendy that he had taken the supplies he needed from around the Shack. Abruptly, Dipper was overcome with a small shock of surprise. He picked up the hunting knife and inspected it. "What's this doing here?" Wendy could hear her friend say. Dipper stared at it, eyes glazing over when the surprise wore off. His mind was on overdrive, and the more he sat there, knife in hand, blade trailing downward to his gut, the more Wendy became increasingly uncomfortable._

_"Dipper... what are you thinking about?" Wendy desperately wished this memory Dipper could hear her. "What do you plan to do with that?"_

_"I_ can't _."_

_Regardless of the fact that this was a memory, it was still playing out to Wendy as though it was happening right then and there. The blade was hovering at gut level, pointed listlessly towards Dipper, who at this point had dark hands pushing him towards an edge._

_Then, as sudden as Dipper had become entranced, he lowered the knife back into the return pile. "I can't..." he said as though he was making a half-hearted resolve. "It wouldn't be fair to the others."_

_Wendy breathed. "Oh, thank God." Even though Dipper was still alive, this memory of suicidal ideation was severely off-putting. And while he ultimately rejected the idea, Wendy could only guess how many times Dipper rethought the notion in the year since._

_He gathered the things into his arms and tiptoed his way downstairs. Wendy watched Dipper put away the things he took in the near-complete darkness of the night. The kitchen table worked as a center place to temporarily store the objects as Dipper carefully picked through them. Bible back in the bookcase, knife and matches back in the drawer, candles back under the kitchen sink. He stood in the darkness, getting lost in his own thoughts again._

_"Should I..." Dipper paused. "Conduct a seance, though? Ghosts can be very volatile. Wendy's probably wouldn't be an exception, given everything. Still though." Dipper looked at his thoughts. "At least, I want to say goodbye."_

_Another pause. It was long enough that it gave Wendy the chance to smile at Dipper's sentiment._

_"Even if she is mad at me that I killed her." Dipper shuddered and grasped his pant legs tightly. "I gotta do this. Even if it's for my own selfish reasons. I just... have to do this. For me."_

Wendy phased out of Dipper's mind. He was still sitting on his bed, shuffling through the box's contents with an outward lack of emotion. Inwardly, though, Wendy knew he had been reduced to a depressive wreck, replaying the second heartbreak over and over again in his mind.

"Should I summon her?" He mused to himself, but the words brought Wendy to full attention. "Mabel really wants me to. But I can't. I don't want to be right and have her angry at me for ending her life. And I don't want to think what would happen if I tried summoning Wendy while stoned out of my mind. It'd be easier, sure, but she'd probably go nuclear." Dipper cracked a small hint of a smile. "Wouldn't want that."

"Wouldn't be nuclear, dude, but you're still kinda right." Wendy had pointlessly noted to herself.

Dipper grimaced, then put the box under his bed. He pulled out his phone to look at the time, muttering quietly to himself, only to startle when the phone buzzed to life. Dipper obviously didn't want to answer, but forced himself to anyway once he regained his composure, pulling the phone up to his ear. Wendy expected Dipper to greet his Mom or Dad on the other line, but instead, he said a different name. One Wendy had seen on his phone days before. The name of his doctor.

"Hey, Harrison."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hear you crying softly for the way it was before


	11. We're kicking your front door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? That's right. Hope you enjoy!

This had gotten awkward too fast, and it sent Wendy reeling. Dipper had been called by that Harrison doctor and would likely be staying on the phone for some sort of long-distance appointment. Instantly, it felt wrong to Wendy to watch over Dipper during what should be a private conversation, and yet she felt too reluctant to leave and not pick up what could be invaluable information. Sensing the wrongness and trespass she was committing, but needing to fulfill her promise to help, Wendy hesitantly floated in very close to the phone, almost pressing her ear inside the device, and strained herself to pick up the other side of the conversation.

"So, Dipper, have you been eating better over there?"

"Mnn... not really. Been trying to eat so my sister can be happy. Had a sandwich just now. I know you said that I should eat for my own sake, but my stomach just can't handle it."

A raspy cough was followed by a grunt of acknowledgment on the other end. "And has that been caused by any consumption of the cough syrup or alcohol, or is this independent of that?"

Dipper frowned, bit his lip, and to Wendy's disappointment, lied. "No, no. I've left all that back home. My stomach's just... acting weird on its own."

"D'you think it might be from the stress of being over there?"

Dipper's eyes darted around. "Y-Yes! Exactly! That's exactly why I've been having stomachaches."

A shift in Harrison's tone. "I see..." His voice went back on the track where Dipper was telling the truth, natural and chipper. "Dipper, it's perfectly normal to experience intense emotions as you work through your memories of the event, especially with the method you have chosen. I mean, between you and me, this is a very bold and awesome move on your part. Of course, just being there is only a small part of what you want to do there. Small, but important, I mean."

"Thanks."

"You remember what you wanted to do, right?"

"I do, yeah." Dipper thought. "I want to visit the diner again- already have once, but, um... out of free will this time- and I want to go back to where the accident happened. Maybe with Mabel or Soos. H-he's a close Friend here."

"Mmm-hmm."

"A-and I want to visit her." He said this quickly. "I want to go to her grave. I never did last summer. Almost did, but-but... that was for the resurrection."

"We talked about this, I think. You realized then that you were grieving so much that-"

Dipper interrupted all the same. Wendy could see that even Dipper was choking on this lie, wishing that he could tell the truth, that what he found was for real, but too scared to risk being shacked up. "That I couldn't think rationally, yeah."

Dipper began breathing deeply, slowly. Even through the silence on both ends, Wendy had a feeling that Harrison seemed to understand what was going on, and he confirmed that.

"Excellent, Dipper. Keep taking deep breaths, just like we practiced."

Half a dozen breaths passed, and it brought out a calmer lilt from Dipper, indicating that he wanted to continue. It was at that point, though, that the conversation melted. Wendy shivered and was very uneasy. She could hear Dipper fine, but his words became gibberish, as well as his doctor's. The room felt unsaturated and surreal.

"W-what is this?" Wendy's eyes darted around, the world around her no longer making any sense. She thought to look outside the window first, but wasn't expecting the sight before her. "... _Shit_!"

Not one Gravekeeper, but two of them, were on the lawn outside, gazing right at Wendy through the attic window with all six eyes. The ones on their foreheads appeared to be reflecting the sunlight very strongly, blinding Wendy instantly. When her vision slowly returned, the Gravekeepers had moved backwards, perched on tall branches, wings beating to maintain their precarious balance. Again, the light their eyes bounced off made Wendy lose her vision again, though she had quickly shut her eyes and avoided the full brunt of the attack. She poked one eye open, then the other, and became fully paralyzed.

The Gravekeepers, one with golden head feathers, the other the same dusty brown she'd seen before, were latched onto the exterior walls of the Shack. Their angry faces were scowling, and the irises of their animal eyes stretched into tiny vertical slits. Even though she was safe, Wendy was still panicking. She wanted to look away more than anything, and to escape the quivering world their combined powers cursed Wendy into, but not even blinking was possible. Icy sensations traveled from her fingertips, up her arms, and spread throughout her body. Suddenly, despite her paralysis, she choked when a crushing force tumbled down her throat and into her chest. Her own hands failed to grasp at her neck.

"Try to have a good afternoon, Dipper." Dr. Harrison's voice broke through the nightmare, the ending of a conversation. "Goodbye."

And at once, the full brunt of the terror resumed. Grotesque horrors of monstrous, angelic demons continued to torture Wendy's soul with traumatic pains and suffering, pinning her into paralysis to do it. They seemed to revel in this. Wendy deeply regretted having even mocked one of them; this had to be some sort of comeback. Their third eyes flashed ever brighter, so close into Wendy's face that even with her eyes closed, the blinding light still made its mark, and then some, somehow bringing her distorted hearing down along with her sight.

They had to have left sometime afterward, bored of toying around and not being able to do much else. Wendy couldn't tell; the attack left her mind broken and disjointed and detached from time. 

"Wendy! Wendy! Are you alright?! Say something!"

Mabel's face flashed into view, and at once the spell was broken. Wendy was back inside the attic, its colors once again normal. Her senses returned, and while somewhere in the back of her mind she was thankful of not being permanently damaged, her mind suffered a massive gouging from the traumatic mindfuckery.

"Mabel..." Wendy droned, wide-eyed, as the Pines twin stepped back, "Oh God, Mabel. The-they're just... so twisted! Oh, man! Oh, Jesus!"

"What's twisted? What are you trying to say?"

Wendy's babbling started dying down towards coherency. "Mabel. Mabel, they're bad. They're twisted. Big monsters with huge white wings want to kill me and drag my soul off to some crazy Hell!"

"White wings?" Mabel brightened. "You mean angels?"

Wendy choked out a grumble. "They're not angels, Mabel!"

She shrugged. "Sound like angels to me." Then, fingers snapped as a theory cropped up. "Maybe they think you're lost and just want to bring you back with them!"

"I...dude..." Wendy cracked a small smile at Mabel's boundless optimism. "I wish that's what's been happening to me."

"What has been happening to you?"

"Well... There's these huge winged monsters that..." Wendy looked into Mabel's concerned eyes and realized she couldn't do it. "They like to play tricks on me. You know, tricks that'd give me nightmares if I was alive and all. Usually they do it when I'm outside, but I guess they found me here and decided to have a little fun."

Mabel's brow furrowed, thinking. Wendy wouldn't be all that surprised if Mabel was convinced that she was hiding something. Huge angel-winged demons running around playing morbid tricks on ghosts? And she had said they'd were going to kill her just a minute ago! Wendy kicked herself; this was a beyond terrible story.

"Weirder things have happened..." Mabel finally said. "I guess that's what makes this place so special!"

Thank God, she bought it.

"I guess it is."

"Probably just how they play!"

"Heh. Yeah." Wendy had a nauseous sensation hit her gut just thinking of that possibility; if that was how Gravekeepers play, they needed to learn how to play nicely, complete with not dragging spirits down to Hell.

"How long did they keep you like that?"

"Huh? What?" Wendy snapped back to reality. "I dunno, Mabel, but Dipper was up here talking to his doctor or something." She paused. "Wait, where is he now?"

"Dipper said he had to go into town. That was half an hour ago."

"Wait, what?" Wendy jolted upward and her mastery of the whole floating concept unfurled to her earthly friend. "Oh, dude! Those things messed with me bad! I gotta find Dipper!"

She turned to the attic window and felt fear tether her muscles into place. There just wasn't one Gravekeeper to keep track of anymore, but two of them. Twice as many chances to fall into their jaws and be torn asunder to oblivion. Wendy wished that she had told Mabel the truth just then, and would have if she hadn't turned and saw Mabel look up to her with eyes overfilled with the expectation for Wendy to go after Dipper. She swallowed, and glanced a goodbye before bravely venturing outside.

It didn't take Wendy long to make it to town this time around. Thanks in part of the Gravekeepers, Wendy made sure not to dawdle and ducked into the nearest building she could spot. She hopped out and back in the various businesses, doing quick but ultimately fruitless searches in places that she'd suspect Dipper may have gone into. She looked up and down the streets, floating upward to get a better view only to zoom back into the safety of the indoors when she came up with nothing for the moment.

"Maybe he already went back home..." Wendy mused to herself. "Or maybe the dude had lied. No, this is Dipper I'm talking about here. He wouldn't really lie to his sister."

Wendy continued her search throughout the entire downtown area, even going so far as to re-search places that she had already visited, taking closer looks in places that she had brushed off. Dipper was nowhere to be found. She was starting to tire of this; just what business did Dipper have in town anyway? He probably didn't even have money, and any that he made working at the Shack probably wouldn't be given to him until the end of the week. And then a twisted idea hit her.

"Oh, dude." 

She steeled herself for the short trek into a more wooded territory, one that could harbor Gravekeepers, hidden away and ready to strike. Going into town meant Dipper had some business to deal with. The only business Wendy could think of Dipper having was getting more of his "supplies". There was only one business that could possibly give him what he wanted.

That old convenience store, near the edge of town, still condemned and surrounded by wire fencing, rose into view as Wendy made her speedy approach. It had grown even more dilapidated, the glass that made up its doors and windows had finally started to break. There was a figure approaching the building as well, much closer than Wendy, but as it stopped to look at the task ahead, Wendy was able to identify the person as she came ever closer and, indeed, it was Dipper. His backpack empty, just as she guessed it would. He appeared uncertain of what he was planning to do. She could see him mouth various questions to himself: Would this be illegal, or at least be in a legal gray area? Would he be caught? ...What would he do without his fix?

Dipper finally made up his mind and made the awkward climb and then faceplant over the fence, foregoing the part of the fence that had been bent backward to the point where he could have squeezed through. Apparently, to Wendy, he didn't want to risk ripping his clothes doing so. Dipper stood up shakily, brushed off some dirt, then made a break for the back of the building. He looked around nervously.

"Why did I think doing this in broad daylight was ever going to be a good idea?" Dipper moaned.

Dipper inched his way to the front, noticing for the first time of the broken glass windows that gave easy access inside. He made no hesitation in using his backpack to punch a hole large enough for him to comfortably pass and not risk cutting himself, and Wendy followed suit. Being daytime, the store was lit just enough to allow safe passage around a ruin gone more ancient than the abandoned bedroom. It had become a safe harbor for vermin after a massive tree branch smashed into the roof, allowing light, heat, cold, and moisture to collide and mix. Dipper caught a whiff of something long gone foul and gagged.

"Urrk... I gotta make this quick." Wendy heard Dipper mutter to himself. "Don't know if the ghosts are still here... or even if they still like me."

Dipper made a break through the aisles, running up and down, until stopping where he finally spotted where what was left of the alcohol was kept. He took a few, large bottles of off-brand whiskey, shoved them into his backpack, then continued his search. Wendy had her doubts that he'd find what he wanted, but Dipper defied her expectations and found the shelf that contained the cough syrup. He slowed down considerably while he inspected these bottles and shooed away several rats from the shelf a level below. A bottle was opened and sniffed at, then Dipper took a small swig of the substance. He almost spat it back out.

"Aagh! Of course. These are so expired!" Dipper looked at the bottle he just drank. "1998?! This is older than me!" He tapped his fingers in hurried thought. "I don't have a choice right now, though. Not until I have money..."

And so he took about a dozen more of the old bottles, ones that he considered to be in the best shape regardless of anything extra other than the substance he had truly been seeking they might contain. That was secondary to Dipper, and Wendy, with a knot in her stomach, knew that. Dipper was smart, he'd more than likely done his research and knew what'd hurt him the most. But, for now, he'd permanently sacrifice a small part of his body if it meant a high. Dipper closed up the thirteenth bottle, threw it in his pack, and after a moment getting the zipper to close, he hurriedly made his exit, the crime of shoplifting from a long abandoned store now done.

Wendy was left in the dust, in the ruins of the store, processing the events that she had witnessed. Pondering the ethics of shoplifting from a place long forgotten left her confounded. It wouldn't be a problem had the place not been haunted, but the ghosts of the two elderly store owners had made themselves known the last time Wendy had been in here, angered that she and her friends were teenage trespassers. But they hadn't revealed themselves this time around. Did they have a certain fondness for Dipper? Not a teenager then, amusing the ghosts with an adorable dance to let them all free from an endless curse. But he was a teenager now, and had stormed and pillaged their resting place for selfish reasons. They needed to be angry! Why hadn't they showed up?

"Hey, uh... hello?" Wendy asked. "You guys in here?" Nothing. "I'm technically an adult. I'm with him." Silence.

Wendy took a second notice of the dilapidated state of the structure. Maybe their souls left. Were they given some sort of peace all those years ago? It was very hard for Wendy to convince herself that. Possible, but those chances were very slim. If anything, they were perfectly content on staying. Looking up, she saw the hole in the ceiling punched in by the large, rotting tree branch. The entrance, she remembered, was also smashed through. With all the holes, big and small, natural and manmade, it made the shop ruins much more airy and outdoorsy. Outdoorsy...

"Oh my God!"

Wendy spun around, searching wildly for those winged demons that had tormented her earlier. Too wildly, as she failed to see sharp talons rush in from behind her. By some miracle, though, she followed her impulse to float up and out of the store, and the Gravekeeper missed its mark, and crashed headfirst into the register counter with a pained screech. The ruckus made her look downward once, and the sight of the stunned Gravekeeper propelled Wendy to flee in the direction that she hoped the Mystery Shack was in. When she realized she'd somehow ended up in the part of the woods closer to her old house, she changed course, and her spirit barreled into her old bedroom. She used her powers to pick up Wally Walrus, shaking off all the dust it had gathered, then held it near her chest while she calmed the tremoring nerves throughout her ghost.

"Dammit, Dipper." Wendy breathed, feeling mild irritation dribble out uneasily of some orifice in her brain. "I could have died _again_. What would've you done then?!"

That had been beyond too close. She was less than a second away from the second death, her soul almost experiencing total annihilation. Wendy let herself tear up and sieve away the fear, closing her eyes and listening to the commotion of her two younger brothers roughhousing in the living room. She wanted to pretend that everything was a twisted nightmare, and she had woken up from the racket her brothers were making. That she had dozed off "looking" after them, and that, if she walked to the living room, she'd join in on the fun. She knew how likely all of that was, though. And through this, she found an answer to her question.

"Dude..." Wendy stretched her plush walrus harder, her psychic abilities reaching a new peak as a tiny cotton fissure formed in its flipper. "He'll die without me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> having the time of your life


	12. Because I like my corner

Over the next few days, Wendy came to understand just how boring being a ghost truly was sometimes when she was in the safety of the indoors, away from the Gravekeepers. Especially evident during the day, when Dipper was largely too preoccupied with work to let the dark tendrils of his psyche take over. They whipped and flicked and saw the light at times, and Dipper would have to make a retreat into the bathroom to perform the ritual of taking a drink and forcing a smile to drive it all away.

She'd already made her rounds around town to look into the lives of her friends and see how they'd held up in the year since. She discovered they'd all found their own inner courage to accept this reality. Even Robbie, who, hilariously enough to Wendy, was the most sensitive of them all in some category, still appeared to be moving forward. Aside from the annoyingly permanent fixture of a lit cigarette in hand, if he was messed up from the experience like Dipper, Wendy couldn't tell. 

Other than that, Wendy found herself in an odd position. Her boredom gave way to surreal periods where she dazed out of reality, the environment going pale and sometimes, even white, though when she became aware of the latter, she was jolted back to full awareness. The white was not unlike that of the Gravekeepers' light, but Wendy shoddily convinced herself that this experience was a special form of dozing off, tailored made for spirits. It always inconvenienced her, as she found that she had missed more than one golden opportunity to gently goad Dipper into noticing the paranormal activity in the air.

The last several times Dipper made his reprieve, though, he had supplemented his drink with cough syrup, albeit at a much lower dose than what he usually took in his nights camping in the hideout. From what Wendy could guess, it was equally for not raising suspicions and not accidentally dying on the job from whatever extra substances the blend had. Over the nights, she had seen him drink a bottle of the expired goo in the cosmic darkness with such a forlorn look on his face that she had to wonder about his sense of self-preservation. It reminded her of the horrible revelation she had while soothing her jangled nerves from the Gravekeeper's sneak attack. It warranted a talk with Mabel, the morning of the Shack's first day of an extended weekend off, the morning after Dipper's awkward escape from the attic that night. He had been rooting around under his mattress for something but ejected himself from the mission before he made too much noise, even foregoing changing out of his pajama pants in favor of a successful escape to get stoned in peace.

"Hey. Mabel." Wendy whispered into her living friend's ear. "Wake up?" Mabel snored, and Wendy took the book Dipper had to read for school and started using it to pat at Mabel's face. She stirred, startling Waddles to the floor with enough of a audible plop to goad Mabel awake.

"Wuh-Wendy?" She blinked and yawned.

"Duh. Who else? Morning, dude."

Mabel giggled. "Morning, Wendy. Wait, Wen...?... Dipper!" She snapped fully awake and worryingly glanced over to her brother's empty bed. "Wait, where is he?"

"Don't worry. He's coming back soon. Dude really likes his alone time."

Mabel quirked an eyebrow up. "Alone time, Wendy? Really?"

Wendy slapped a hand across her mouth to stifle a laugh. "... Oh God, Mabel, get your head out of the gutter! Jeez, already this sharp this early?"

Mabel swung her legs over the bed. "I'm a light sleeper!"

"Uh... yeah." Wendy sunk and hovered over the floor. "Anyway, kind of serious times Mabel. I don't think Dipper has much of a survival instinct at this point."

This woke the older Pines twin completely. "What do you mean?"

"Well, uh... you said he was messed up, right? Like, are you aware of what he does to himself?"

"I am." Mabel glanced down to the left.

"Really? The alcohol?" Mabel nodded. "The cough syrup?" Another nod. "...Anything else?"

"Nothing else right now. Tried weed for a while with his friends but he said he hated it."

"Jeez... at least he didn't pick *that* up too." Wendy put a hand to her chin, and went brutally honest. It was better than skirting the issue she had brought up in the first place. "Well anyway, Dipper's a smart guy. But I've been looking over him, and he's been doing really stupid things."

"Oh. I know." Mabel nodded.

"Like, I don't know if he just want to say 'Fuck it, I don't care if I live or die' just yet, but he's at that point where he might say 'Oops, I died' just out of the blue one day. Like, he's heading that way." Wendy pulled a hand through her hair to try and comb away her nervousness. "Sorry if that was blunt and stuff, but it's true, Mabel."

"Yeah. Kinda been getting the same vibe from him." Mabel flopped backwards onto her bed mattress. "It's why I want him to come to his senses, contact you and be happy again like, right now."

"Don't quite think it's gonna work out like that. I've been thinking..." Wendy floated up to where her feet hung downwards. "I want to show him I want to talk to him, right? So, it'd be cool if I had something important of mine to show to him, somehow."

"Funny thing, Wendy." Mabel showed a toothy grin. "He has your hat."

"...Wait, what? My hat? He has my hat?!" Wendy was incredulous at this piece of news. "Dude, I lost that hat before I died! Where did he get it?"

"From your Dad."

Wendy mouthed a quiet, tiny thought purely for herself. "When he was trying to go through my things..."

"I don't know where Dipper put it, though. He didn't take it home with us, and neither Soos or I found it."

A let-down if ever there was one. "...Well, that figures." Wendy sighed.

"Kinda wonder how he might've turned out now if he took your hat with him. I mean, for weeks he brought it everywhere with him, but the moment he decided to go home early, it was like he abandoned it."

"You know," Wendy leaned backward. "I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if it turned out he became too guilty or afraid or whatever to keep it with him." Mabel nodded in agreement. "Not a psychologist, guessing that's Harrison's job, but d'you think he does this to himself as a kind of punishment or way to get away from those feelings? Or both? I dunno, I could be completely wr-"

"That's exactly what he told me."

"What?! When?"

Mabel thought back. "The weekend our parents were out."

"How'd it all go down?" Mabel said nothing, but looked away. "Mabel, I have to know this if I want to help Dipper the best I can."

"I know, but... just thinking of seeing him like that..."

An idea snapped into Wendy's mind, and she had to interrupt. "No wait. I had a thought."

"Yeah?"

"Is it okay if I, you know, take a look?" Wendy raised her hands to point to her temples. "Inside your head?

Mabel had her jaw hang loose. "You can do that?"

"Apparently." Wendy shrugged. "Saw a couple of Dipper's this way."

Mabel beamed. "That's amazing!"

"Sure is. So, can I?"

"...Y-Yes! Do it!"

Wendy couldn't back out now, not that she wanted to. She waggled her fingers about, like she was going in to capture an artifact for some ancient civilization. "Okay, Mabel. But remember, you must actually be thinking about that memory, alright? Can't flake out on me."

Mabel nodded, eagerness melting away when she made herself think back to that night, but determined to do anything that would be of use to saving Dipper. Wendy moved in close, and with a shaking palm, entered into Mabel's memory.

_This house was unfamiliar to Wendy, and she immediately assumed that this had to be Mabel and Dipper's house back in Piedmont. Mabel was doodling in her sketchbook in what had to be the living room, its TV turned up loud. However, sounds upstairs managed to break through. Fast, heavy, nonrhythmic footfalls followed by vomiting, heaving, and more vomiting. Mabel stopped her doodling, and immediately ran upstairs and pounded on the bathroom door, which easily gave way. She winced at what she saw. Apparently, from the state of the bathroom, he had not gotten everything in on time._

_"Dip, what's wrong? Are you sick?"_

_Dipper kept his head inside the toilet bowl, but slurred out a pathetic "I dunno..."_

_"You certainly sound sick. Shouldn't have had that chicken we had in the fridge for the past week." Mabel playfully ribbed her brother, which triggered another vomit attack. She appeared ashamed, and helped out by flushing the toilet for him._

_"N-no." Dipper finally heaved out. "Hadn't had that. Been drinking." He attempted to chuckle, but could only muster a half-groan. "Uuugh... too much syrup though."_

_"What? Dipper, you promised us you wouldn't while Mom and Dad were away!"_

_"I know..." Dipper breathed. "Mabel, I just want to forget. I'd like that." Dipper slithered from the toilet to the bathtub basin. "I know this doesn't solve it. You don't have to go off on some spiel about how this is wrong."_

_"Dipper, bro," Mabel pinched the bridge of her nose. "Do you really think Wendy would have wanted you to turn out like this?"_

_"I dunno, Mabel. ...Wouldn't be surprised if she'd be happy seeing karma work out like this."_

_"The answer's no, Dipper!" Mabel retorted. "You'd realize that if you went through with summoning her ghost and talking to her! So why haven't you?!"_

_Dipper stared at the wall, mesmerized, and lurched out an answer. "I'm scared, Mabel. I don't want to bring her ghost back if it means she'd be screaming at me." He gagged. "I did so many things very wrong in trying to save her... might as well have killed her. I killed Wendy... if anything, I deserve this."_

_"You don't deserve this! You didn't kill her! Bad car brakes did!"_

_Dipper let out a pained moan while his stomach churned. "There were so many things I could have done better, though!"_

_"You did the best you could!"_

_"Mabel," Dipper stared dazedly into his sister's eyes, the look of fading towards unconsciousness. "I'd rather do things like this. I want to be wrong but not know that I'm wrong. Because what if I'm right and had Wendy's ghost confirm that to me?"_

_"But you're wrong at wanting to not know you're wrong!"_

_Dipper had his eyes close and red-stained mouth hang open, gurgling out his final thoughts for the night: "I'd rather not know Mabel..."_

_Dipper let his body go limp as the last vestiges of consciousness left him. Mabel placed her brother in a safety position that had become a necessity to research, then set off to get some supplies to start cleaning her brother's puke off the floor._

Wendy exited Mabel's memory, now that she had the information that she needed. Mabel was pained and distraught having to dredge the memory up, but she regained composure with a deep breath. The two sat there, taking it in, thinking.

"Mabel, what are you doing?"

Thoughts derailed when Dipper popped his head up from the stairs. Mabel snapped up her sadness, herself putting on a fake smile.

"N-nothing!"

Dipper remained unamused, but with no ability to sense Wendy's ghostly presence in the room, he had to let it go. "Mabel, I was thinking while I was out, um, walking... do you wanna... maybe... help me check out the intersection today?"

"Really? Today?"

"Yeah. Wanted to see if you wanted to go out for breakfast this morning, but, you know, since we'd be in the area I thought... why not?" Wendy wasn't certain if Mabel saw the shudder her brother made. Likely not, as Mabel squealed in delight at Dipper's sudden, supposed resolve.

"Woah, a two for one?!"

Dipper made a goofy grin, fighting down a second shudder. "If you want to call it that. Really, though, I'm kinda hungry."

"Alright!" Mabel hopped up to her brother and put up her fist in a soon fulfilled offer for a fistbump. "It's big sister time!"

"But you're only five mi-"

"Those five minutes still count!"

The two siblings laughed; Dipper grasped at a pair of jeans and put them over his nightwear. "I'll be waiting downstairs, alright?"

Mabel nodded, and Dipper vanished to the floor below. She turned to face Wendy with a toothy smile, then vanished herself after gathering up a small pile of clothes in her arms. Wendy had to admit it, she was impressed. Maybe Dipper had some time to really think clearly and put his foot forward; Medicines had to lose their efficacy after a certain date, right? Or the thought of accidentally killing himself scared him off. He seemed really out of it on the stuff, much more so than alcohol could do alone.

Wendy floated back and took a satisfied gawk around the attic, happy that there was a possibility for a breakthrough here. When her eyes glanced across Dipper's bed, she had almost missed the lump of an object barely jutting from under the mattress. Wendy felt an unusual feeling of nostalgia hit her, and curiously leaned closer to the object. She wasn't sure if her powers could grab onto a thing that Wendy had no idea whats shape it was, but she gave it a shot. The mattress wasn't heavy, and so this mysterious object had little trouble in sliding its way out.

When it was freed, Wendy stared, astounded. She couldn't believe what it was, and dropped it, before picking it back up and looking inside and seeing the massive 'S' on some cloth stitched securely in place. No doubt, it was her hat. Several drops of nitrous were let loose with this sudden reunion. It was *her* hat, and it was safe and sound.

Mom's hat was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am happy where the vermin play
> 
> 8


	13. Breaths From High Up

Mabel and Dipper took their leave for the diner not too long after Wendy's reuniting of her prized hat. Wendy failed to notice that they had left for a good several minutes, enamored to distraction by finding one of her beloved possessions in the bedroom of some of her beloved friends. She snapped out of her reverie as she eventually noticed her friends had already left, and Wendy carefully perched her hat on a headboard post on Dipper's bed before sailing off to catch up with them on the forest path.

Dipper was being much more open to his sister; Wendy noticed this instantly. Although, he looked deeply on edge towards his surroundings and the conversational topics brought up. He seemed intent to keep it on some level of neutrality, but still giving Mabel the time of day to talk about her hobbies and things of interest.

"Thinking about going to art school."

Dipper stopped. Apparently, this was news, and his lilt went momentarily positive. "Really? That's great, Mabel! Do you know where?"

"Don't know, but I'm sure to figure it out, don't you worry!" Mabel playfully nudged her twin ever-so-slightly off-balance.

Dipper chuckled. "Wasn't planning to." He frowned, emotions turning down on the realization of his reality, "Do you think I can get anywhere at this point?"

"Of course, bro!" Mabel slapped Dipper between the shoulders. "You still aced the SATs, you're trying to turn your grades around, and you know more calculus than your calculus teacher! I'm sure those admissions people will get that you're going through a hard time once they know!"

Dipper winced at the optimism. "And what if they still won't let me in?"

"Well... Mom and Dad did say community's always an option."

Dipper only made a mumble of acknowledgment, and the topic was left to die in favor for lighter ones, such as plans for tomorrow, the Fourth. Wendy lagged behind the twins, letting them bond in peace without the elder becoming distracted by her ethereal shape. She wanted to crack some jokes, lighten the mood, anything to have Dipper be a little less distressed, but all she could do was pick up a loose and semi-supple twig with her mind and lightly bend it about. It had snapped, and Dipper halted to look behind himself. Wendy dropped the two halves ever so slightly late, and she could tell the younger twin had seen the halves seemingly levitate for a tiny second. He paled, edged closer to an emotional instability, but held tightly on before taking a short jog to catch up with Mabel. It had lasted all of five seconds, but the aftermath from the accidental show was a terrifying insight of a tattered psyche.

The woods were soon behind the group and, just ahead, the diner loomed forth. Dipper, surprisingly, shot forward and entered the establishment well before Mabel could even start crossing the road. Concerned, Wendy sailed to her friend and leaned in close.

"Hey, Mabel? Dipper's breath doesn't smell weird or anything to you?"

Mabel skittered backward from her step onto the black pavement. "Didn't smell off from how his breath usually smells. Which, by the way," Mabel wafted a hand across her face. "Whew! Guy needs to brush more often, am I right?"

A snortle, "Wouldn't know, kinda don't have a sense of smell on me. It figures though, since I'd need to breathe in the first place and... well..." Wendy made a weak shrug and an awkward chuckle.

Mabel nodded wistfully, and both her and Wendy made their way across the street and into the diner, where Dipper had already found a small booth in which to initiate a round of nervous nail biting. It was promptly interrupted by Mabel sliding in and playfully slamming into her brother, who was badly startled out of his mind.

"Whoops! Didn't mean to scare you, bro!"

"Uhh, no no!" Dipper shrunk away. "I wasn't scared, Mabel. What are you talking about?"

"Dipper, don't kid yourself. This was the first part in that... really bad day. I can totally get you being uncomfortable here."

"To be fair, though, we did come here about a week ago. Sort of unexpected, but I... m-managed." Dipper went into the thicket of a mind addled in shame. Of course he didn't. Wendy shook her head knowingly.

"How, Dip?"

"Um, uh. You know! Managed! Calming exercises, putting on a smile until I smile for real-- just like what Harrison taught me to do."

Mabel frowned. "Never really liked that fake smiling idea, just so you know. I mean it has its place, but smiles have to come from the heart, Dip! They have to be real!"

"Mabel, you and I both know actual smiling's a lot easier to come by with you. But it gets complicated when you're like me and, well, dealt with some... pretty serious..." Dipper trailed off, thought, then suddenly dropped the menu on the table. "Anyway, know what you're going to order? Because this guy knows!" Dipper pointed to himself with a fake grin and nervous chuckle.

"Is it the massive pancake stack? Because I really want to see you pack on the pounds!"

Dipper glanced down at the menu briefly and gulped. "Of-of course!"

It was, of course, not what Dipper had intended to order, and Wendy could tell by how Dipper looked ready to puke long before his gut became distended. By some miracle, he held it down. Mabel allowed her brother as much time as he needed to force his stomach to settle and to pay the bill before returning to the matter at hand.

Wendy observed carefully while Dipper went through what had to be prescribed directions by his counselor. He narrated what he remembered while he, Soos and Mabel waited for Wendy that humid morning, and of his growing anxiety as the minutes dragged on. He moved through the part where he heard the crash off in the distance with great difficulty, and as Dipper leaned into the table with his eyes fixated downward, how his intuition turned out to be nightmarishly true as he went out to investigate. She had to float in up close to hear her friend speak, but at that point Dipper had gone frozen and mostly silent, save for the occasional mumble of staggered half-statements.

"Mabel, I think he's starting to freak out a little." Wendy pointed out.

"Hey bro," Mabel smiled and sat up from her booth seat. "Need a breather?"

"...Yeah." Dipper let muscles move once more, and while he sluggishly scooted out of the seat, he made quick steps to the bathroom.

"I'm gonna go in. If he starts to, you know..." Wendy pantomimed drinking from a flask. "I'm gonna pop right back out and tell you."

Mabel nodded, though she was visibly off-put by the thought of her own brother going to such measures to calm himself. Wendy entered once again to the diner's restroom, and noted Dipper had already gone to the sinks. She moved behind him, noting both how he was staring at his reflection and of the pain she felt as she failed to see her own. The mirror was depicting the reality as Dipper and everyone else in the world saw it, ghosts included. Wendy was sickened by that reality. She wanted Dipper to know someone was here with him. Before she could really stop herself and think of the consequences she'd turned around in desperation and remotely flushed a toilet. Of course Wendy shouldn't have expected a magical transformation, but she didn't want to fault herself for blindly groping for one.

Dipper jumped when he saw the toilet handle's reflection flush, and Wendy was crestfallen when it became clear that Dipper completely got the wrong message. His eyes went huge and crazed, and something in him cracked a little bit more. He instinctively reached into his flask pocket and pulled out the container whilst he bobbled from side to side, but before Wendy could back out of the restroom to give the bad news, he began regaining control of his fragile state.

"No, I can't." Dipper let the flask plop back into his flannel pocket. "I have to do this for Mabel. I can't let her or Harrison down like that if I drank and just let the whole experience be a blur and not learn anything. Not to mention what Mabel'd do to me if she found out."

Dipper cranked on the faucet and splashed as much icy cold water as he could on his face as though his well-being depended on it. When he fidgeted with his flannel pocket with one hand he stung his face with a hard smack with the other. "No. I can't let the problem get any worse. I have to be good to myself, like what Harrison said. Doesn't matter if I believe in it or not. J-just do it, Dipper, old guy. You can do it."

Dipper wiped off the excess water on his face and spent the next several minutes to breathe deeply and summon enough composure to last him through the next part of his day's journey. Wendy followed him out, where they were immediately greeted by Mabel.

"Okay, let's go and get this over with." Dipper grumbled, and let Mabel grab him by the wrist and lead him outside. "I think we went over this possibility before, didn't we?"

"Yeah, bro. You said something about not letting you go until you really, really can't handle it anymore?"

"I think so. Memory's kinda foggy, but keep holding onto me until I say so."

"Alright. Any word or phrase I should keep in mind?"

"Uhh sure. 'Potato wedges', whatever. That's the phrase. I pick that phrase. It's silly and it's nonsense, so it's perfect for this context!" Dipper had said with subtly increasing fervor.

"If you say so! Now let's get you to that street before you change your mind!"

Mabel wasn't aware that she was not only dragging Dipper to the scene of his worst nightmare, but to Wendy's as well. She realized she couldn't handle the thought herself. The pain she remembered was intensely electrical, but it was nothing in comparison to having her senses numb and give out. Lying on the pavement was the last memory she had as a living being, with Dipper hanging over her and doing all in his power to try and help her survive. Wendy wasn't sure if she was even more afraid than Dipper to return to this spot, but she buried the thought. Dipper was the one more afraid. Albeit willingly, he still had to be restrained and pushed his way towards this terror. Wendy could check out at any moment she wanted to, if she felt like it. And yet she didn't, though the idea did make her do a full rotation around to check for any of those winged demons that could have very well been lurking nearby. There was one form of checking out she'd rather not go through. The scene was cleared. No monsters.

The second Mabel and Dipper reached their destination, Dipper's legs visibly locked into place. Wendy looked around; it was as though the accident never happened. The scene was quiet and boring, and any passerby would not have suspected that the young man standing there was on the precipice of his worst nightmare.

"L-looks normal." Dipper said with a slight falsetto and forced laugh. "Bill was way more terrifying than this, Mabel. This is just a normal street, you know?" Wendy could see her friend's legs tremble and his hand trying to worm away from his sister's. His mind could see anything but peace. "I-I think I'm gonna be sick. I want to leave now!"

"No, Dipper. Not yet! We just got her-"

Dipper spoke over Mabel, his speech growing increasingly pressured and panicked. "I got here and there was a-a truck and Wendy's crushed car and it was on fire and she was in it trying to get out but couldn't! I ran up to her and helped her escape and put her right there." He pointed to a specific spot in the road. "She was very cold and couldn't breathe and I tried to keep her warm and gave her CPR but it didn't do any good and... and she... oh God!"

Some switch in Dipper's mind had notably and audibly flipped in that instant. Wendy watched painfully while her friend could no longer handle the raw storm of panic and guilt scrape his soul. It must have been even harder on Mabel to witness this collapse, and she nudged herself closer, and started on comforting him.

"Dipp--"

It was cut drastically short as Dipper, now taken over by grief, started to yell out. "Her last moments were full of fear and confusion and so much pain! Wendy died too young Mabel, and I made that happen!" Dipper used a free hand to scrub at his watery eyes. "I mean her ribs, Mabel! I did CPR on her and her ribs felt all _wrong_ but I kept doing it anyway because I-I-I didn't know what else to do other than do something really stupid and hurt her! I did it! I did _it_!"

"Dipper, it's not going to do you any good to guilt shame yours--"

"I know it won't! But what other possibility could there be?! I could have done so much better for Wendy! And-and..." Dipper stopped his diatribe suddenly as his eyes locked onto a thing lodged in the grass by the side of the road. He broke a sweat. "I'm done, Mabel. I want to stop this now. P-potato spuds! No, wait, potato skin!" Dipper wrestled his sister's iron grip. "You know what I mean! Please! Let me go!"

Mabel looked up to Wendy. "Let him go, Mabel. He needs to cool off."

Mabel took her brother's pleading and dead friend's advice to heart, and let go. Dipper scrambled backwards, but still dragged out an appreciative grin. "Thank you, Mabel. I-if you don't mind, I'm gonna go do things, b-but I'll be back home soon! Just tell Grunkle Stan I'm hanging around town if he asks, okay?!"

Dipper darted off before Mabel could stop him. Wendy and Mabel were left in temporary dumbfoundedness, but the former snapped out of it to glance over to where Dipper had been staring at moments before and take a closer look. It was a simple, wooden cross, gone lopsided from heavy weather, but still dug in firmly nonetheless into hard earth. The piece of paper attached was aged and about ready to come undone from the cross, but the words 'We'll always remember you, Wendy - From, your friends' were still legible despite the poor quality marker used. Wendy had to fight back the wistfulness the small memorial her friends had erected and sail back to Mabel, who'd probably already seen the commemoration, maybe back when it was still new.

"Should Dipper be left alone like this, Wendy?" Mabel had asked this with an expression of serious confliction.

"Nah, Mabel. No, wait. Yeah! No, wait, I mean..."

"You don't know?"

"Like, I don't think it'd help to smother Dipper, but he... had a flask with him, and I don't think he's gonna keep himself from the stuff like earlier." Mabel went pensive, and Wendy shrugged out an apology. "Look, I'll go after him. Do what he said and wait for him back home, alright?"

Mabel couldn't make an argument against the notion, as much as Wendy could see Mabel wanted otherwise. Wendy herself hesitated, uncertain she was making the right call. But she shoved her nervousness away, then took off in the direction of the downtown area, where Dipper had ran towards. She floated upward to give herself a better view ahead, and yet Dipper had made himself scarce. Wendy floated even higher and afforded herself a view above the buildings and the people milling about, and was able to spot a tall, bushy-haired person meld into a thicket of trees several blocks down. Wendy took this lead and followed this person down. Thankfully it was Dipper. Not thankfully, he hid himself behind a large conifer and proceeded to empty out the flask into his trembling body.

"Gotta calm down. Gotta calm down..."He growled as it went down and cursed the taste of whiskey, but he drank the liquid down like medicine, then replaced the flask back into his pocket and waited with shame. "Dammit." Dipper breathed. "Why did you mess that up so badly, man? You were doing good... if anyone saw you now they'd be so disappointed..."

Wendy could feel a mild sense of unexplainable emotion cross her mind when Dipper, after having just said that, took another sip from the flask anyway. There was disappointment and sympathy, but there was another emotion, deep yet subtle. And it was one that she harbored towards her friend as he whimpered there until the alcohol quieted him down with a thick blanket surrounding his brain. Dipper was good and drunk when he struggled to stand up and stumble out of hiding.

It was that odd, drunken impulse that made Dipper go back out onto the street. He put on a poor air of sobriety, but wasn't sure where he wanted to go, and Wendy watched him bumble about for several blocks, ready to yank him by the collar if he walked off the curb into traffic, but Dipper had just enough of his slippery mental faculties together to keep him from being that stupid. Down the next block, though, he managed to trip and jam his shoulder into a payphone during a lurch forward. Dipper turned toward the relic, seemingly peeved, but Wendy could tell cogs were slowly turning in her friend's fuzzy mind, and he reached for the receiver, and held it to his ear.

"It has a dial-tone..." Dipper let the receiver drop from his hands while he went to search for his wallet. Wendy saw Dipper flash a scrap of paper, and went in for a closer look while Dipper inspected the paper.

"Wait. Dude, didn't I see this before?" Wendy had to think, but she remembered when Dipper put in his change and dialed the numbers on the scrap. "Hey, yeah. I saw this the first day Dipper came here!" Wendy went silent, and braced herself for another uncomfortable round of telephone eavesdropping.

"Hey. Hey Jen. Jen's voicemail." Dipper numbly barked into the receiver. "It's Dipper. I'm up in Gravity Falls. Calling from a good, old payphone, so no one can find out and bitch at me for calling my friends up, you know?" A sloppy laugh was followed by Dipper gripping a free hand onto the side of the machine. "Anyway, there's gonna be this music festival in less than a couple weeks. It'd be cool if you guys came up, you know? Really miss hanging out with you guys... seriously, fuck my parents!" Dipper guffawed, but abruptly stopped when his eyes met the gaze of a passerby across the street staring suspiciously at him, and pulled himself together with a mighty yawn. "But yeah. Get everyone up here. I gotta go before someone notices I'm, like, stupid drunk right now. I'll see ya. Bye."

Dipper slammed the receiver onto the hook and clumsily made his way back from where he came, all the way to the very tree he hid behind, and slid down the trunk and onto his butt. The sedation was really starting to kick in, and it was in no way possible for Dipper to ignore those dream sirens as his now-closed eyes attested.

"Now's the time for a good nap... Wake up refreshed and happy and... ah hell. That's not gonna happen." Dipper scoffed. "Never does. But thank you God for making me hilariously resilient to hangovers and nothing else..." Quiet giggles bubbled out. "Nothing else..."

Dipper nuzzled up against the trunk and sleep claimed him not too long afterward. Wendy groaned, and settled herself down for several irksome hours until Dipper would come to, when his soberness and self-hatred would once again return to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waiting all winter


	14. The more it's not so clear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping that I can get over the writer's block I've been experiencing in writing the chapter a couple chapters away, because literally, there are 8 or 9 completely written chapters after that just dying to be published before the very last part I need to write, then a couple more until the end after. 30 chapters of this madness, good golly. And I think I've already went 5000 words over what I expected this fic's length to be, and yet there's still some more yet to be written. When I convert this to a piece that I can publish you bet your butts I'm going to try pruning it to the best of my ability.

"It's perfectly alright, Dipper. The fact of the matter is that you tried, and I give you plenty of credit on that. And you've been making great progress on being able to talk about everything leading up to the accident, which makes me doubly proud of you."

"Thank you. I know, but..." Dipper groaned. "But I could've lasted much longer than two minutes before running off like some scared kid."

Wendy floated around in vague circles while she listened into Dipper's telephone appointment with Harrison. She had made peace over the taboo of listening to a private conversation between patient and head doctor; With the way Dipper was acting and how she was involved in it all, up to and including her mission to bring peace to this troubled soul, anything that could give insight into what her friend was thinking, feeling, and needing was welcome. And already she pulled up the important fact that Dipper was utterly dodging that he cured his anxiety attack with a shot or three of whiskey. He wanted to project an air that he was cleansing himself of all mind-altering chemicals while up north, and he was being grossly successful at it. Wendy couldn't help but growl and put a hand to her annoyed face momentarily.

"I... I just lost it when I saw that roadside memorial. It made what happened even more real."

"I hear what you mean, Dipper." Wendy could hear Harrison shifting his body from Dipper's phone. "The memory was already too much to handle, and seeing the memorial just added to the hurt."

Dipper sighed heavily. "I couldn't think clearly for the rest of the day. I mean I realize its important to think about what happened objectively, even the parts where I'm thinking subjectively, but... you know."

Dipper was glancing around the room with shamed eyes, and Wendy was certain that he was taking the inability for his doctor to physically see him for most of what it was worth.

"I still want to visit Wendy's grave, though." He said this rapidly when the silence became too stifling, and Wendy was jostled out of her irksome state. "That part hasn't changed a bit. It's very important that I see her and pay my respects."

Wendy smiled when Dipper smiled. The odds of his being forced were high, but it transitioned itself into something more genuine, and he was being minutely eased by his intended plan. Harrison's further encouragement soothed Dipper further, though the mighty weight of his troubles limited how much better Dipper could really feel. When the call ended he sat there with a dumb look on his face, staring at his bed, then stood up and reached for Wendy's hat, which was still on the headboard the exact way Wendy had placed it before. He had seen it after coming back home from his drunken morning nap, and even through yesterday, when he had dropped most of his worries for the sake of spending time with his sister and Grunkle, Wendy could hear him wonder about the hat's sudden appearance whenever a moment of solitude came to him.

"How did Mabel find this, anyway?" Dipper mumbled, then had a surprise chill travel down his neck and back. "It shouldn't have been possible for her to find it, could it...? Then again, anyone could if they looked hard enough..."

Dipper wasn't too keen on his own words, as though he was more certain of another possibility. Wendy couldn't help but think that Dipper was feeling her presence in the room, but he remained silent while he cradled the hat in his hands. Dipper was distracted by many thoughts, and Wendy took that chance. She was curious in knowing what her friend was thinking, and with that Wendy delved into Dipper mind full force with hands grasping.

_Wendy popped up in the Shack's gift shop at the break of dawn. The clock on the wall read 6:25, and the room lights were out, but even then, Dipper was working in the ruddy orange light, sweeping up nothing. He wasn't working on the chore in particular, and he was sweeping the same spot obsessively, as though he was trying to force the task to get his mind off of other things that were making him afraid. The red light and large shadows that adorned the floor and walls only served to make him more nervous, and he turned around, away from the entrance door, to work on another spot. Wendy noted the wall calendar by the register, blurred away by an imperfect recollection, but it was headlined as 'July' and a date smack-dab in the middle flashed out like neon, the 15th._

_The light faded from a blood red to an earthly orange before the front door opened unexpectedly and jarred Dipper. He saw the large shadow of a giant lurch over him, and he looked behind him, as did Wendy._

_"M-M-Manly Dan?!"_

_Dipper sounded much more terrified than he should have been, and was paralyzed in terror. Wendy forced the memory into a static frame, and floated in next to Dipper, mind and body frozen in perpetual, befuddling fear. Dipper's thoughts raced through Wendy's mind. It had been a full month since the accident. Three and a half weeks since the funeral. A week and a half since his plans for resurrecting his friend went up in a cloud of dust. About a day since he had abandoned his idea of holding a seance on account of crushing guilt and self-doubt. And then the recollections of the bad dreams he had in that time. Many times, her Dad would appear in them and utter something along the lines of 'It's your fault', either right at Dipper or in an indirect albeit cryptic manner that would suggest that Dan was indeed referring to Dipper. The most recent episode, the one just last night, had Dipper cowering in fear in a land of red and orange. A monstrous form of her father towered over, bellowing directly at him in pure rage while holding up a mighty fist._

_"It's your fault my daughter is dead!"_

_The memories flashed out of existence just before the punch had landed. She herself had been taken aback by the raw images._

_"Damn. Dipper, dude, if you're lucky, your dream would have ended right then."_

_Once Wendy had recollected herself, the memory magically unpaused itself, and Dipper returned to his trembling and her father standing tall and foreboding before him._

_"Dipper." He said._

_"Wh-what do you want?" Dipper appeared to brandish the wooden broom defensively._

_"Could you..." Manly Dan's voice was unusually soft, but just as authoritative. "Please come by the cabin later today?"_

_"Uh," Dipper stammered. "S-sure."_

_Her father's voice raised slightly. "No later than six though."_

_And in a flash, and Wendy had fast-forwarded to that afternoon, trailing above and behind her friend while he wished out loud about how her father shouldn't have stopped by the Mystery Shack that morning on the way to work. When Manly Dan had arrived at the Shack, Dipper still hadn't gotten over the shock of the dream, and paranoia practically dictated to him that his dream was a warning; that Manly Dan would wake up the whole town by beating the everloving crap out of the boy who had been the grossly ineffective first responder. Wendy could hear Dipper's instincts screaming at him on the walk over that he was essentially walking to his doom. Finally, he made his last few steps in his journey, stopping at the cabin's front door. Dipper hesitated for a long time before the door opened without his knocking._

_"I saw you from the window." Dan stated bluntl y. "Come in."_

_Dipper herded himself inside, looking more uncomfortable by the second. Before he could voice this, however, Manly Dan motioned Dipper to follow him. Wendy was taken aback when dad opened the door to her old room, and so was Dipper, but for a very different reason than her. Manly Dan used a mighty hand to shepard Dipper in, and followed suit. He pointed at Wendy's bed and motioned Dipper to sit on it before he began._

_"Been, uh, been trying to get Wendy's things in order. Uh..." Her father wasn't really all that great when it came to talking heavy stuff. "Been talking to your great uncle. Both of us agreed that you should have this."_

_He reached down over by her dresser, where she had noted the three boxes from since her very first post-mortem visit home, and picked up the middle one, with its four flaps interlocked closed. For an odd reason, there was no marker label; maybe Dan had labeled the boxes after the fact, but Wendy waited as he handed over the box to Dipper. Dipper inspected the top of the box carefully, then, with the utmost caution a child would give to his most cherished toy, he opened the box. His mouth went softly agape as he pulled Wendy's old hat out._

_"You're... giving me this?"_

_M anly Dan rambled on, not hearing the question. "I found it under the dresser. Wendy had been really bothered about losing it, given it meant so much to, well, us, really, but her especially. It was her mom's. I'm... sure you know the story by now."_

_Dipper nodded. "But, why me?"_

_"Sounded like ya need it most." A pause, then a throat clear. "So, yeah..."_

_Dipper petted the fur of the hat as smooth as it would let him. "I'll treasure it. Thank you, Dan."_

Wendy felt a strong psychic wind eject her from Dipper's mind. He yelped as Wendy's ethereal form no longer made contact with his, and shivered as paranoia crept into his brain. Unconsciously, he detected that something had pilfered through his thought process, but conscious denial fought against this notion.

"Was something reading my mind just now?" Dipper stared at the hat, failing to coax any answer out of the natural fur. "Was it... no... no, it couldn't." Dipper coerced a shaky laugh. "I gotta be realistic here. Don't go crazy from the guilt, man. It's okay."

Dipper looked around the room suspiciously, eyes glancing for just the tiniest fraction of a moment into the space Wendy's spirit was occupying, then shut his eyes tightly and breathed from his nose. He shook his head and put the hat back on the headboard, then went downstairs to the Shack's gift shop to continue forth with his day, though with the addition of the added stress of constantly scanning his surroundings. Wendy decided Dipper was searching for evidence supporting a conclusion only he knew about, with the way his eyes shifted about, his jumpiness, and a frown that grew out of control.

Dipper was starting to suspect something, and Wendy hoped that he wouldn't go off the grid before the facts being laid out before him led him down the right trail. If only he let himself think clearly all the time, he'd already know. And by the way Dipper compulsively drank down his alcoholic miasma and left himself to its hold later that night, Wendy came to the realization that he chose to hide in a cave of his own making. He just wouldn't allow himself that freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fabric starts to tear


	15. Oh, Lord I know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first off, Weirdmageddon. Just holy crap. Wendy just keeps on gaining levels in badass. Like, I'm pretty sure she went from level 10 to 45 in this season, and from 35 to 45 in just this episode alone. At this rate she's going to end up level capping herself at the end of the season.
> 
> Second off, story-wise, the first bridge has been written. Now just gotta finish writing the second and I'm done minus some editing. May want to edit the first bridge too, but, you know, such is writing. Went to bed thinking it was okay, woke up and thought it sucked a little. Mmreh.
> 
> Thirdly, I'm really trying my damnedest not to open and close chapters with Mountain Goat lyrics each and every time but it is really, really hard to be abstaining this well like this. You have no idea. Darnielle is a lyrical genius when it comes to, like, human existentialism. Just pick a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NE7MpzyfGkc). Literally, [any](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SG0xevi9x8M) [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2se_8rxdmWU). [Any](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NVYYjEYEkVQ) [of](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xyo1p4pZATw) [them](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7sNakKm3Pr0)! If I could, every applicable chapter would have one of his songs as part of the title and closer. But I want to pull from other sources, you know?

Dipper and Wendy stood side-by-side, alone together. Wendy had chased after him the second the last customer for the next several hours caroused out of the Mystery Shack, sometime just before noon. Dipper made no indication that he was leaving to his family. He had a secret mission in his eyes, but as he approached town, Dipper slunk off to the side of a building and took stock of his wallet, bit his lip in intense thought, and the fire in his belly fizzled out to be replaced by cowardice.

But whatever this mission was, Wendy was certain to shadow Dipper. He was ready to do something stupid, Wendy was certain of that. The nagging feeling she felt towards her friend failed to abate in the days since Dipper's retreat into a smeared, numbed mindscape and the subsequent reporting to Mabel once he was safe and sound. And now here he was, wasting precious time, ever since Stan had received a very censored version of events. No alcohol mentioned, just that Dipper had been gone for a good part of the day with zero contact, as well as a reminder to keep Dipper on a tight leash. In short, Wendy heard the conversation binding Dipper down to a simple rule. He needed to get back home absolutely no later than 1 PM; Currently, it was 12:19.

"I got just about ninety." Dipper thought aloud. "Should I save some, or should I be an idiot and piss it all away?"

She watched her friend ask himself this while he fidgeted and trembled. Dipper was thinking of many different situations he could try out, calculating possible hitches and outcomes, then crumple them all up and toss them away with wild abandon. Whatever he wanted and was planning between the barber shop and low-key bar, Wendy wanted to figure out without weeding through her friend's mind and causing unnecessary anxiety on his end. Dipper craned his neck and face out of hiding and scanned the streets before him. A sketchy man walked by without giving Dipper second notice, but Dipper wasn't going to let him go.

"Hey! Psst! Hey!"

Wendy rolled her eyes nauseously. "Ugghh. Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing."

The man, who had a thick beard, scraggly t-shirt and a thin frame, snapped around and focused his attention to Dipper. "What? You talking to me?" He was confused, but walked up to the bone-thin teenager that was beckoning him beyond the corner nonetheless.

"Yeah. Um... look. I need something from the pharmacy. Well, several things."

"What?! Dipper, _dude_ , no! Don't!" Wendy was undeniably upset and angry at her smart friend. Despite her desire not to unsettle Dipper just a moment ago, Wendy did a full 180 and hoped she could rock the dumpster Dipper had leaned on enough to spook him away from his task, for his sake. He seemed highly reluctant to be doing this. She could only tip the covers shut, but Dipper still jumped off from the object. Wendy saw his chest rise and fall rapidly, but his feet were planted firmly in place. Dipper was reluctant, but he was also resolute.

The man scoffed and grinned. "Jeez. You sound like you're asking for drugs or something. You're acting all jumpy, kid."

Dipper looked downward, trying to conjure up deep, controlled breathing while cracking a shy smile. "Well, I guess you can call it that. I want cough syrup specifically."

The man pursed his lips. "...You know the pharmacy here doesn't care if you buy a bunch of that stuff at once."

"That's not quite what I'm worrying about. I don't want my family finding out I'm drinking dex up here. They'd go absolutely ballistic."

The man shrugged. "...Fair enough."

Dipper took out his wallet and flashed most of his money to the man. "If I give you eighty dollars, could you... well... buy some for me?"

The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Five dollars. Give me five dollars when I get back, and I'll get you what you want."

Dipper had no immediate qualms in handing over the initial 80 dollars, although Wendy could spot a quirk in the man's eyebrows. Even on first sight, she refused to put trust in this person, and was flabbergasted Dipper was thinking of putting faith in this guy.

"Okay, just do it. Please. I don't want to drink any more cough syrup that is actually older than me. A-and make sure there's only one active ingredient. Check the back. It's very important I don't kill myself by accident."

"What, seriously? Drinking medicine older than you? That's crazy, man." The man laughed, but Dipper wasn't finding the humor in his situation. "I'll be back."

Dipper was left to wait at the side of the building almost alone. He didn't realize while he wrung his hands that Wendy's ghost was hovering right next to him, wishing she had the ability to smack Dipper in the face for what he was doing, or at least yell at him. He turned to face the dumpster that she had disturbed before and shuddered.

"Jeez, it really does feel like something's following me." Dipper shook his head violently. "No, I'm letting my imagination get the better of me. I mean sure, yeah. I know for a fact ghosts exist. But I can't be standing here thinking Wendy is right by me. Just gotta let go of the past. Sh-she's gone. Buried. Gotta accept that and... move on..."

Dipper crashed into an emotional wall and his upper body lightly curled in on itself for several long minutes. He slunk further between the buildings to protect himself from being noticed before his hold on his emotions would fail. Once Dipper weathered the nadir of that stabbing depression and stood up straight once more, Wendy could see the pained, questioning look in his eyes. He was still agonizing over the piercing in his heart. Dipper placed a hand to his face, peeled it down to his stubbly chin, and rubbed the rough stubble until it stung his fingers.

"If only you could, man... then you wouldn't be in this mess."

Dipper pulled out his phone and tried taking his mind off the phantom tendrils crushing his throat by studying the clock, counting down the minutes the man he appointed his task to had vanished into the pharmacy. Wendy noticed a pained tightness in Dipper's face. He was terrified over a realistic possibility that the man could have ran with the money, worrying about wasting too much time, and pained that he'd gone this long without his usual amount of nightly syrup and relying too much on the alcohol to take him away.

It wasn't too long after 12:38 that the seedy man returned to view with a plastic bag in his hands sagging with bottles of the poisonous sludge. Dipper was offered a look in the bag, and he pulled one out to inspect it. By the way Dipper's eyes brightened, Wendy could tell that the man had found exactly the right blend.

"Okay. Good. This is perfect. Thanks, man. Should last me... about a week."

The man nodded with an unsettling, smug look on his face. "You have some serious problems kid, but at least I got it right and didn't waste your... money."

Dipper made an uncomfortable laugh and pulled out the largest bill in his wallet. "Yeah! Sure thing! I hear what you're saying! Here you go!"

"Woah, hey..." The man had taken the money, but didn't hand over the bag. "I thought we agreed ten dollars."

Wendy sighed. She knew it. He probably saw the extra cash and wanted it all.

"Wait, what? I didn't say that!"

The man stared right at Dipper. "Now, you can either give me my ten dollars, or you won't get what you want."

Dipper waited for the man to respond with anything, but his silence was a powerful motivator. Dipper had to dig into his wallet and pull out all his money. "I-it's all I have."

The man took the money and inspected the bills, drawing out the process for his own sick enjoyment, before finally handing over the plastic bag to Dipper. "Little low, but I like you enough. It was a pleasure doing business with you, kid."

Dipper nodded, and watched the man turn the corner and disappear from his life. He touched his wallet pocket in deep concern, then peeled himself from the building and walked down the street and into the woods to drop off his cargo at the treehouse. He sat in the hideout in dejection, especially after he pulled out his wallet and looked into the empty billfold.

Wendy rolled her eyes. "Ugh, Dipper..." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "First of all you should have known better to not get burned out, and second of all, you should have really known better than to waste all your money on drugs. Really, man. Deal with it."

Wendy groaned again when Dipper failed to handle his new problem the way she wanted to. She knew she was being hard on Dipper, but felt that she was also in the right, especially when Dipper held a palm over his eyes, then rubbed out the tears. He sat there a spell longer, wondering aloud if he should just blow off the Shack anyway, since there was no way for him to arrive in time. It drove Wendy's vexation further upward when Dipper made his way downward to the forest floor and, instead of scurrying his way back to the Mystery Shack and begging for clemency, wandered back onto the trail for a destination he kept to himself.

Dipper kneeled to the side of the trail on occasion to judge flower patches of all things, at first getting back up to continue on his way, but the further Dipper went the more Wendy noticed serious consideration dance across his face. He walked hesitantly down the road once he reached it, and Wendy slowly began to piece together, with every twist and turn Dipper made, his dashed intentions from earlier, and why he was genuinely upset at going broke.

It wasn't long before Dipper was standing right at the cemetery gates. He had managed to amass a lackluster bunch of plants; None of them were ones Dipper could identify with their given names, yet were picked specifically because they were flowers. He fished a stray, old rubber band out from his pocket, and wrapped it tightly to hold the garish bouquet together, then entered the hallowed landscape.

It was a painful march to watch. Every footfall ended with Dipper irresolute about whether he should keep moving forward. He wanted to turn back and go home, and Wendy knew that, but Dipper's natural stubbornness worked in his favor. He kept moving forward, a free hand idly fidgeting and stretching the rubber band holding the sorry excuse of a bunch of flowers together. Dipper let his pace paradoxically quicken as he made his approach to Wendy's grave. He stopped at a gravestone, and looked around, baffled, and thought under his breath.

"This has to be the place. I remember her getting buried here. So why..." Dipper read the tombstone in front of him, and sputtered at his stupidity. "Oh, right. Her Mom's here, too." He glanced over to his right, and clumsily made two sidesteps over to the correct gravestone. Dipper stood quiet for half a minute, save for several forced, deep breaths, then cleared his throat.

"Hey, Wendy." Dipper awkwardly stood at the foot of the grave. He ground one foot into the earth, then the other, then the first one again. "I'm, uh... I'm not sure if you like flowers or anything. I mean, _like_ like, because I think all of us probably like them to some extent, you know? But, uh, if you do...Sorry they kinda suck. I, uh, had to pick them on the way over..."

He stepped forward and placed the feeble bunch of flowers up against the headstone. For the longest time, he knelt there, pensive. He let fingers brush over the engraved letters, first of his friend's name, then going in to trace the date of her death. Wendy's ghost watched intently; it wasn't until Dipper sat down cross-legged that she became convinced that Dipper intended to stay now that he was here. He continuously frowned, and any attempt to get himself to pull even a straight face failed horribly.

"Look at him." Wendy made a tiny yelp and turned towards the voice. It was her Mom.

"Oh, uh, hey, Mom." Wendy gulped, shoving down the urge to yell at her Mom for startling her. "How's it going?"

Wendy could tell her small talk fell on deaf ears. Her Mom was looking at Dipper longingly, shocked herself at the state he had been reduced to. "I remember him being so full of life. Always running around town, getting himself into all sorts of crazy supernatural stuff..."

"I miss you. I, uh, guess you already know that."

Wendy and her Mom went silent, snapping their attention back to the young man who had now positioned himself to the side of the grave, with his left arm wrapped around the headstone the same way as if it was wrapped around a person.

"I'm sorry for everything. I mean, I'm responsible for your death, you know? The very least I could have done was save my money to get you an actual bunch of flowers instead of blowing it all so I can get wasted! Like, even five dollars! I could have saved five, ten dollars, just for you, but no! If I wasn't enough of a bad friend as it is..." Dipper sighed and hugged the tombstone desperately. "I wish you were still alive. E-Even if the accident still had to happen and you were paralyzed or severely brain damaged or both, it'd still be so much better than this. I-I'm sorry I had to bring up something that horrible, but..."

Dipper sighed, with a hand to his face as he trailed off. The hand slid down to the scraggly bits of stubble and rubbed at those scarce strands until, once more, his palm began to burn.

"I don't know if you've been watching me, but if you haven't, I've really made a mess of myself. I didn't mean to get addicted to alcohol and cough syrup, but here I am! Needing it whenever I think about even thinking about that day... like... I know that it isn't me." Dipper said nothing more, just staring forlornly at the grass in his line of sight while loosely hugging the chosen surrogate of his lost friend.

"He looks so... sad." Wendy's mom noted. "The guy's really been letting the hurt fester?"

"His parents did get him to start seeing someone, but that was months ago." Wendy sighed. "Man... he needs some serious ghost intervention soon, before he does something stupid and hurts himself. But I don't know what to do, Mom! I've tried messing with things in front of him, but he's not, like, mentally stable enough or whatever to realize it's me. I want to help. He just gets massively paranoid. It just hurts him! Like, I need to do something big, but if he actually sees me do it, he's gonna think he completely snapped!"

"No doubt about that." Her Mom nodded wisely. "Dipper's an intelligent guy, but he always struck me as that kind of kid that gets suspicious of everything."

"And, well, Mom. I need to say this," Wendy frowned. "I really hate to, but Dipper's really been pissing me off. I mean you've heard him. He wasted his cash on drugs instead of something that would have made him actually happy with himself!"

Her Mom snickered. "And made you happy by getting a pretty awesome bunch of flowers, huh?"

Wendy sputtered and blushed. "Well, I, uh. Y-yeah. I guess that too... B-but this isn't about me."

Dipper's timing on nuzzling his face into the tombstone was uncanny, and Wendy's Mom chuckled at that. "Admit it, Wendy. You would've loved that much more."

"Well, yeah. Okay. But it's the thought that counts, Mom." Wendy tented her fingers together.

"I know that look, Wendy. It would've been even more thoughtful had he saved his money just for you, right?"

Wendy slumped her shoulders now that she was caught. "...Yeah, okay, you got me. I would've loved it if Dipper had used his money to get a bunch of flowers to put on my grave. It would've shown his priorities were right. But he didn't, and, well... it really is bugging me! Really, it isn't about the dumb flowers! Just what's wrong with him?!"

Wendy's Mom floated back to her daughter's side, and clasped an ethereal hand onto an ethereal shoulder. "He pretty much needs your blessing, Wendy. Dipper has to know that you don't hold your death against him. It won't cure him, but it'll hopefully set him back on the right path and he can start moving on."

Wendy nodded in reluctant agreement while Dipper continued to cling to her grave as though, if he hugged and prayed and wished hard enough, Wendy would appear before him, alive and well. His mouth started up again. "I wish I could've somehow traded places with you, Wendy, so I would have gotten hurt instead of you. I'm certainly not living life now." Dipper shifted, still holding the stone with one yearning hand. "And, well, to be honest, I'm not sure if I want to go on like this. Like, I don't want to die or kill myself. I'm not there yet. But I need a game changer, Wendy. Anything that would change my course away from putting myself in harm's way the way I have."

"Mom..." Wendy chewed at her lip at the revelation of the kinds of thoughts her friend revealed to having. "You see what I mean?"

"Totally. He wants out bad. We're going to need to do something big and soon, and I want to help out any way I... can..."

Wendy was unnerved by her Mom's trailing off; It reminded her of their reunion, and of that horrible monster. "Mom? What's wrong? Do you sense a Gravekeeper?"

Her Mom, thankfully, placed a thoughtful hand on her chin. "Wendy, when are Dan and the boys going out camping?"

Wendy thought back to that first morning for the answer. "This weekend. But I don't get what you mean by that. Camping has nothing to do with Dipper!"

"On the other hand, Wendy, it's a whole weekend with the cabin all to ourselves. Us ghostly girls." Her mom ribbed at Wendy. "You hear what I'm saying?"

Wendy was perplexed. "Mom, this is serious! Dipper sounds like he's really starting to consider some... very dark options..." Wendy groaned. Her sugarcoating was just as terrible sounding.

"Hear me out, Wendy. Dan never got around to cleaning out your stuff, right? And last I checked, the boys are still a mess around the house. Let's see if we can try and fix all that. You know, for Dipper's sake."

Wendy's eyes brightened, and she mentally kicked herself for not piecing her Mom's words together sooner. Her Mom took this as an approval. "Alright! Looks like we got a plan in place."

"Mom... I don't know how much I can thank you right now."

"Just don't give up on Dipper." Her Mom smiled. "Really, that's all I want. Even if he messes up bad, please don't quit on him."

Wendy smiled gently and responded with true conviction in her voice. "You have my word one-hundred percent, Mom."

"Awesome." Her Mom smiled back, and the two took to looking at the lost third soul in their midst, the one that they were going to help together. They watched him plant a small peck onto the rough stone and mouth what had to be a small prayer, and he remained at the side of the tomb long after he had nothing else to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just digging my own grave


	16. Maybe dial it back

"Kid, you were supposed to come back no later than 1! It was a madhouse in here, Dipper! Where were ya?! "

Dipper winced at this yelling the second the last tour wrapped up for the day; Apparently Stan hadn't forgotten his word like Dipper hoped he would. To Wendy, floating there in the middle of the gift shop, it had to be a combination of both that and the unusually chaotic mess Dipper had walked into that, at the time, gave him ample cover from being questioned then.

"I know, Grunkle Stan. I just... well... I was busy." Dipper looked down and attempted to end this by leaving the room. Stan had no problem of blocking his great-nephew's escape path.

Stan folded his arms. "Busy doing what, exactly?"

"Well, uh... do I have to say?" Dipper sidestepped over to the left; Stan responded with the same, to the right.

"Yes you do. All of it!"

Dipper cleared his throat to buy himself several seconds to think of a plausible story. "Well, I, uh, wa-"

"Spit it out kid!"

Grunkle Stan's patience was running razor thin at this point, and Wendy could tell by the look on his face he was ready to lay down the law on his grand-nephew. Dipper lowered his voice in deference, to keep the conversation just between the two of them.

"I went to see Wendy, okay Grunkle Stan? I kinda lost track of time and my phone was set on silent. I'm sorry. I know I should have said something, but the idea to go happened suddenly and I wasn't really thinking."

Grunkle Stan kept his lips pursed, but his scowl softened. "You still miss her, huh?"

"A lot, yeah. I'd rather not talk about it anymore, though. It... I just can't, okay?"

Dipper faked Grunkle Stan out with a fortuitous display of footwork and snaked himself up to the attic. Stan stood there perplexed, scratched his head, and turned to Mabel, who'd witnessed the confrontation from a shirt rack and had kept herself out of it.

"I don't know what to do with him, Mabel. I know I should be disciplining him like your folks are telling me to, and lemme tell ya, I really want to, but he's doing that annoying teenage angst stuff. But it's more like, annoying actual angst stuff."

"He really hasn't been himself for a long time, Grunkle Stan."

"I know. Your parents told me the trouble he's been gettin' in. He's really been through a lot. And he'd always been a good kid..."

Wendy drifted away from the conversation until she could only hear tiny snippets from the concerned family from up in the attic. Dipper had curled up in bed listening to his music, wanting to isolate himself from the world if at least for a while, and unaware his family was holding an impromptu meeting about him. He stared up at the ceiling, gripping his hands to his gut and holding an expression of discomfort on his face. Wendy knew there was more to Dipper's unease than his stomach acting up on him; Despite having clung onto her gravestone for the entirety of his visit, Dipper had been gingerly holding down intense anxiety as though a sudden movement would be jabbing some psychic gag reflex, and the possibility of being locked away from the outside world only compounded that worry. It wasn't too much of a shock when he went to the bathroom to hover over the toilet bowl for a while. Nothing came to pass except Dipper giving himself several firm pats to the stomach to make absolutely sure he was safe to return to his room.

It wasn't long before Grunkle Stan climbed up to the room and made his presence known. Dipper sat himself back up and pensively removed his earbuds.

"Hey, uh, Grunkle Stan..."

"Look, kid," Stan made his way over to the bed and sat himself down. "You know people care about you. That should be a no-brainer, but we do. Now look, I've heard about what you've been getting yourself into back home. Can't say I'm proud of ya."

Dipper sighed. "I'm not really in the mood for a lecture, Grunkle Stan."

"I know you're not, and I don't wanna lecture ya either. You've probably heard it all anyway."

"Then why did you come up here?"

Stan placed a large hand on Dipper's shoulder. "I've decided to let you off the hook just this one time. Wendy still means a lot to you, and it must've been really hard losing her like that. I mean, I should know. I don't want to deny you the chance to go see her when you gotta. But please, tell us before you do next time, alright? It's important for us to know you're staying out of trouble."

"I will, Grunkle Stan. Thank you."

"No problem, kid." Stan patted Dipper's back several times before he went to take his leave downstairs. "Be sure to come down for dinner, alright?"

"Okay."

"And afterwards, we could watch the big fight on TV! Whuddya say?"

"...Yeah. That sounds like fun."

Dipper waited until Stan was well out of the attic before he shoved his earbuds back in, complete with a huff tinged both in relief and dejection. Wendy couldn't exactly pin down the exact cause of the latter, especially since Dipper had gotten away scott free this time around. It did leave her to wonder just when her friend was going to mess up and get caught, and she regretted for a while about silently placing personal bets on when that'd happen with cold abandon. Yet, Wendy realized she had a point; Dipper was bound to mess up again.

Wendy flew back downstairs and pulled Mabel aside to a private corner of the shack to lay out her plan for the weekend. There was an air of jubilation on Mabel's end that she could scarcely contain that such a solid strategy was finally formulated.

"Wendy, this is beyond amazing! Dipper's going to have to pay attention to that!"

"Yeah. I mean he's going to freak out a little, but dude. If the whole town's talking about what happened, he'll have to realize that something's going on! A-and... well... truth be told, Mabel, but it's freaky just seeing my room virtually unchanged like that. It should help out my family a little, too."

"No one's been in there?" Mabel softly questioned.

Wendy shrugged. "Nah... Dad took my death... alright, I guess, but he just can't go in my room. I don't think he knows what to do."

"Do you think he'll take what you'll be doing well, though?"

Wendy stopped while she considered the question. "...Never really thought about that, Mabel. I guess he will be upset, but so long as I leave a note or something that proves it was me doing all of that... who knows?"

"And your brothers?"

"They... should be alright?"

Wendy said this with an uncertain lilt. This plan meant involving more people than just Dipper and, really, using her own family as a means to an end. But, what other strategy could she think up now it became clear that there was now an unreliable timer of total self-destruction to take into consideration?

"Well, it is for Dipper's sake, after all."

Wendy nodded in agreement. "We might have to mostly work at this during the night, Mabel. Just putting that out there now. If someone comes around during the day and we're working they might call the cops, and, well, we gotta make this as big as we possibly can for Dipper. And speaking of, try to keep him from sneaking out as long as you can or something?"

"Got it." Mabel said with a salute. "Keep him distracted until he falls asleep."

"Maybe the first night..." Wendy slowly hovered about while her mouth verbally pondered out Dipper's psychology. "I dunno... Dipper can get a little, well, cranky if he goes dry for too long. Kinda a natural thing for anyone going through that. It might actually be better if we let him go do what he has to do. Sounds really messed up, but..." Wendy sighed. "We need him comparatively stable if I can't be there to rein him in."

Mabel furrowed her brow. "I don't know, Wendy. He's getting less and less stable the longer he does this to himself. And I've been standing by and been letting it happen. I mean, I promised Mom and Dad I'd tell them if I caught him doing these things."

"Woah," Wendy said quietly. "Must suck being forced to play the narc like that."

"Well, I can't really do that in the first place unless I actually catch him, can I?"

"...Right."

Mabel bit at her cheek with a clear sense of conflict in her brain. "And, well, I gotta ask. Why are you keeping his hideout a secret from me? You know I have a right, Wendy."

Wendy sighed. "Yeah, I know. I... I guess it's two things, really. First one... well... I promised him. Which sounds really lame now, so I'm just gonna say that if he gets in any danger up there, I will just say 'fuck it' and get you over there so we can help him not die." Mabel silently agreed via nodding. "But if he knows that you know where he's going, Dipper might not deal with it well. May shut everyone out more, and we can't have that happen. I'm really banking on this plan working and not stressing Dipper out more than necessary."

Mabel nodded again. "Yeah. It'll be good for him not freaking out even more than he already is. But... Wendy?"

"Yeah?"

"What'll we do if he refuses to budge even after you do what you'll be doing?"

Wendy refused to have Mabel's insecurities gnaw at her resolve, and was blunt in her reassurance that Dipper would naturally be compelled to summon her after becoming aware of Wendy's activities. Even after bringing the conversation to a close and parting from Mabel, Wendy kept her own words close to mind. This plan was going to work. It absolutely needed to.

Dipper had put on a brave face that night by forcing down his entire dinner, the first time Wendy noted that he had ever completed this meal since their one-sided reunion, then settled into the living room for a night of senseless violence. Stan had more of a grasp of who to cheer on and who to absolutely scorn, and Dipper blindly followed in his Grunkle's shadow up to and including screaming obscenities in the heat of the main event.

All that excitement left Dipper too exhausted to venture out, and he slept like a perfectly content baby that night, the usual fare of bad dreams and nightmares and endless black voids replaced by something eerily calmer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the wolfsbane blooms


	17. There's no one around

Friday night dragged its heels through the door and practically killed Wendy by its pure sluggishness. Thursday was just so draining to have to sit through, if not for being impatient for wanting to already begin the bulletproof plan, then for having to witness Dipper throughout. Wendy saw him awake Thursday morning with a deep sensation of doom hitting every nerve in his body, and he had trickled downward in despair since then. This particular day seemed to have a string of bad and disgruntled customers coming to him, and he was made to roughly swallow his most intense emotions and keep from vomiting them all out. Lunch was had with solely onion chips and soda tinged with alcohol, and after the workday some straight liquor.

When Mabel had popped the question to Dipper if he was drunk just before dinner, he'd staunchly denied that, then once she had let him be, staggered to the bathroom to brush his teeth clean of the stench both he and Wendy were certain his breath had become. Once he had his meager fill of an evening meal, Dipper waited out the time to sneak out with the last of his emergency liquor reserves. The night played out like Wendy assumed it would: Dipper sneaked out, headed to the treehouse, then promptly blew his mind out towards the pitch black heavens with more alcohol and dextromethorphan than what was comparatively healthy given his feathery weight.

Friday was, somehow, marginally worse. While on the one hand Dipper hadn't given into his vices as hard, he had snapped more than once at a tourist in-between mechanic lessons, which in turn caused Stan to snap at him, which in turn made Dipper return from a self-directed break calmer but visibly off. A sad glance by Mabel to Wendy made it clear that things needed to change, and fast, and Wendy returned a sympathetic gaze.

Wendy found herself idling around her old house not too long after that silent exchange in near-complete physical deafness. Like always, the lead-up to the camping trip was full of yelling and crashing about as her brothers engaged in horseplay so violent that Wendy could only marvel that none of them had already joined her. Her Dad's yelling for the boys to focus were futile, but by some miracle they were fully packed and ready to go before sundown. Wendy just managed to catch her father quickly look down at the floor after her brothers piled on out for the truck before he closed the door behind him and locked the house up for the weekend.

It was all of two minutes before the truck had vanished behind a forested bend in the road. The first requisite of the plan was fulfilled, and now Wendy was left to hover about the house as she waited for night. The trees were soon being saturated in a red light that faded as quickly as they were bathed, and the dusk hours finally, finally arrived. It was a great release to Wendy that she could at last get down to business, and flexed her arms the moment she felt the time was right.

"Yes! Let's do this!" She paused at the first glaring mess "...Okay, first off, what is a freaking ax doing just lying in the sink?" Wendy lifted the soaked ax and floated it over to its proper resting space on the kitchen wall. "Ugh, those guys."

"Ha, yeah I know!" Wendy spun around and met once again with her Mom. "You should've been here during the winter, Wendy. One of the boys had to get stitches in his finger. It's kinda funny to look back on now, but you'd think they'd all learn not to play with the freaking ax after that."

"Mom! Glad you could make it!"

"Yep!" Mom had said with a small bounce.

"Okay, so... _why_ haven't they learned not to play with deadly weapons by now?"

Her Mom shrugged blithely as she floated coolly backwards and towards the hallway.. "Beats me, Wendy. Probably get it from their father though."

Wendy followed her Mom until the two were standing at the door of her old bedroom. Mom glanced at the door and, without giving much effort, had the handle turn and door open wide. A thick layer of loose dust fluttered and danced off the surface on top of the door.

"Oh jeez!" Her Mom let out a surprised laugh. "That's a lot of dust for one year. I mean, holy crap!"

"I know." Wendy watched the thick motes sink down to the floor. "It's insane just thinking about it."

"Well then..." Her Mom hovered to the center of the bedroom, and feasted her eyes on Wendy's bedroom. "It looks the same as the last time I wandered in here, which was... I'd say a few months back? I have to say, Wendy. It was really interesting to see this room change since I... uh-heh... passed away. You grew up well."

"I guess I kinda did. Could've gone without a fatal car crash, though." Wendy held her eyes down sheepishly when she made her musing. "Um... so, should we start?"

She shrugged again. "Ready whenever you are. I'll get a trash bag. Dan should still have them under the sink..."

Her Mom wandered off towards the kitchen while Wendy was left to look around her old room as it was one last time. It wasn't long before the two began work that turned out to be all at once easier and much more difficult to accomplish, especially after the useless debris and clutter was flushed out. Some things were absolute no-brainers: Wally Walrus was definitely a keeper, more so than the photos scattered and hidden about like Easter eggs. The photos were all innocent snapshots that gave a life meaning, but were also painful reminders of what had been taken away too suddenly. Confronting these visual memories peppered about always hit Wendy hard, as much as she tried telling her Mom the contrary. As much as she tried reassuring the both of them that she had accepted her death and moved on while her reaction to receiving motherly bear hugs said otherwise.

When the mood would get so low that it became too much to handle, or were starting to fatigue their paranormal powers, the womanly specters would stop and turn on the bedroom TV to catch whatever no-budget film was playing in the dead of night, if not to mock then simply to get their minds off of the more depressing nature of their task and just have a backdrop where they could talk for a while.

The ghosts parted ways as dawn's golden radiance glowed the outside world in beautiful light, with Wendy returning to her normal post of hanging around at Dipper's side. Mabel somehow managed to get him to stay put for the night, but Dipper was predictably crotchety and on edge from having missed his nightly self-medication. He used up his flask's half-full reserves by the time he slithered out of the Shack that night, but Wendy had to break away from Dipper and hope for his safety as she and her Mom continued their work for him. The two of them had the idea to mess around with the kitchen and living room and tidy up to ridiculous degrees that night, in order for their living family members to want to search the entire house and ultimately find Wendy's dismantled room.

By around dawn, that important side-task had been completed, up to and including braving the moldy dishes and bugs. Wendy rushed to Dipper's side at the treehouse right as he came to. His eyes tried to adjust to the brightness of day and he wobbled about rushing back home and to the medicine cabinet for some aspirin. It was apparent to Wendy that he'd went to town on the alcohol and now his body was punishing him, and that in turn left her concerned enough to ask Mabel if she could hold him back that night as well. She told Mabel to forget what she said earlier about maintaining Dipper's sanity, as Wendy realized she would rather have an insane friend than a dead one.

Wendy also came to the realization that saying she loved spending time with her Mom once more was the understatement of the century. Every word, every action filled a surprising hole in Wendy's heart that she swore couldn't have been that big. Wendy had restructured her life without Mom since hear death, built scaffolding over the pit that she'd look down into from time to time, but grew some level of distant towards as she completed her own life.

The two ghosts went into their third and final night working on their big project all-in. Everything had to be completed by sunrise, and by the rate they were working, Wendy and her Mom would be meeting their deadline with some time to spare. Earlier, during their continued upending of the old bedroom, Wendy had put aside an old school notebook with a pen stuck inside the wire binding for when her room had been transformed into a version that was cleansed out of its debris, restructured to the exclusion of virtually all unwanted, earthly items. At this juncture, she found it to be the right time to crack the notebook open to a clean page, pick up the pen and float the tip across the paper. It was the only way to quell a troubled pit that had been growing in her gut throughout the nights, and it quickly brought in her Mom's attention when she was finished with some final touches on the pile of things to give away.

"What're you doing with that pen and notebook? Planning to write a note to someone?"

"Well... yeah, Mom. Kinda hard trying to control two things at once, and my writing's the worst from that, but I think I'm doing this decently enough." Wendy sneered at a sloppy mark. "Or not. But whatever, I guess..."

She nodded. "Fair enough. Who're you writing this to?"

"...Dad." Wendy had paused in her thoughts and actions, then continued to her task at hand. "I mean, I dunno. We're kinda using our family as tools here, Mom. It's good that we're doing this for Dipper's sake and all, don't get me wrong. But I just want to make sure Dad and my brothers know just what's going on."

More nodding. "I get you. What're you going to say to them?"

"Um, I guess I'll tell them that I'm fine now and stuff?"

Wendy didn't mind her Mom reading this sloppily handwritten note over her shoulder too badly. She had already finished jotting down most of what she wanted to say, and only had to write down simple comforts followed by a terrible monstrosity of a botched signature. Wendy moved to put the notebook on her bed, then haphazardly chucked the pen she had used to the pile of things to keep.

"So, do you think we got it all?" Her Mom ventured.

"As much as it seems completely reasonable, anyway. I mean, somebody's gotta use those clothes and books and junk."

Her Mom chuckled. "Oh, totally. At least a few people are gonna be happy with some of this loot."

"They sure are." Wendy hovered back to nod and admire the work done on this particular pile.

"It's kinda funny when you think about it." Her Mom picked up a coat from the pile to take a closer look, then placed it back. "Usually, dead people's stuff in thrift stores aren't picked out by their old owners so long after they've died."

Wendy quirked an eyebrow at that. "Usually?"

"Hey, I've talked to other ghosts! Many've told me they'd pick out some things from beyond the grave to give away. It's actually kinda natural ghost behavior, but I've never seen it to this degree, or for this purpose, let alone actually be a part in it. But I'm glad to be."

Wendy telekinetically lifted a trash bag full of junk. "So am I, Mom. Couldn't have even thought of this without you. And, well, I really appreciate that you care about Dipper a lot, Mom."

She smiled gently yet slyly. "He's a very sweet guy, Wendy. Always had good vibes around him, you know? Just... man, you couldn't have picked a better guy to friendzone."

Wendy sputtered and choked on her words a little from a general figment of spit catching in her throat. "Wh-I ju- I... Mom, shut up!"

The spirits shared a laugh at that, and Wendy rehefted the bag.

"Alright. I'm just gonna get this junk out of the way, and then I'm going to tell you exactly why that was a terrible joke."

"Alright, kid. I'll be waiting."

With that, she had maneuvered the trash bag out her bedroom and, with a wave of telekinesis operating the front door, Wendy had made her way outside with the trash bag in tow. It was still night, even as the first tinges of day were showing from an obscured horizon. She plopped the sack down at the side of the road, and a sense of accomplishment ran across her mind. She hadn't felt this happy and at peace with the world in a very long time. It was silly, feeling this while performing such a mundane chore, but Wendy felt serene. Tranquil. Whatever happens when her family came back from camping will happen. Dipper couldn't deny such a major event happening at her old home; He'd be grasping at straws! He'd have to face it. Wendy closed her eyes and smiled. Everything was going to work out.

Sharp, strong talons dug into Wendy's throat and crushed her windpipe. Wendy had no physical need to breathe as a phantom, and before she was forcibly twisted to look into the paralyzing eyes of the Gravekeeper, she belted out a primal scream. Its third eye flashed its blinding white light to her, and Wendy went deathly silent as her body locked up. As her hearing dulled and she could only sense a throbbing noise, a throbbing pain around her throat. The vision had pale beings hovering about her. They tried reaching out to grab Wendy and drag her into this horrible land whose light was turning ominously warm and dark.

"You stay away from her!"

The vision shattered apart and Wendy reeled into an unknown direction, frozen with intense fear. While the Gravekeeper's gaze was broken, she needed to will her body to move, and doing so was like trying to swim in sludge. Wendy blinked her eyes multiple times to remove the sensation of being blinded and her eyes focused on a terrible sight. Her Mom had her fists flying at the monstrous face with desperate fervor while her waist was being skewered in by serrated blades of fingernails. She was screaming at the thing, furious and unconcerned that the beast was currently slicing through her ghost in such a gory manner that Wendy was first appalled, then furious just looking at the damage. She charged forward with her own fists in the air, ready to pound this evil entity to a pulp if she had to.

"Wendy, don't you come any closer!"

Wendy made a sharp stop. "What? Mom, no, I gotta..."

Both women yelled out as the Gravekeeper sank its talons as deep as they could go. Wendy's Mom gasped in pain, and went limp. The monster conjured up a deep crimson portal, grinning at its catch.

"Mom..."

Her Mom struggled to lift her neck up to meet her daughter's eyes. She smiled weakly. "Hey... it's cool. You're okay..."

"Yeah, but you... Mom..." Wendy couldn't believe what she was witnessing, and couldn't find the words that she wanted to say. Her Mom looked so tired and frail in that death grip. Even if the Gravekeeper were to somehow drop its mission and leave them both alone, Wendy wasn't sure if her Mom's soul would hold together with the crimson trails she was bleeding wisping into nothingness at their terrible rate.

Her Mom was being taken away from her again.

"Hey, Wendy..." She gasped. "Don't... blame yourself for this, alright? You need to look after Dipper, okay? He's gonna need you to be there."

The Gravekeeper kept its tight grip on Wendy's Mom as it began to enter the portal it had created. Wendy started towards the beast, stopped, started again, stopped; Her Mom's words resonating with her yet at the same time her own wishful thinking compelling the teenage spirit to lunge forward and fight against an invulnerable being. 

"It'll all be okay, Wendy." Her Mom grinned, eschewing the increasing fright in her eyes. "I'm... I'm gonna be fine. Just know I love you, an...heh... oh wow. Hell's a lot colder than I thou-"

She was gone before Wendy could blink, leaving the younger Corduroy ghost alone at the side of the road, stunned at first, but as the reality of the situation hit, twin waves of depressive grief and endless horror goaded her back indoors to mourn. The ethereal tears were a mixture of sadness and anger. This didn't need to happen. There was no warning that this bastardized angel was going to show up like that. Wendy belted out several long, strained, heavy sobs. She had never truly conceptualized that a soul could die, let alone her own Mom's, yet that was exactly what transpired.

Wendy wasn't certain when the sun had gotten that high in the sky once her emotional turmoil settled down enough for her to think, but she knew she had to make herself put in the final touches before Dad and her brothers would come home from camping. The grief was still very fresh and beyond overpowering, but the tasks were small and manageable. Move this there, take that out with the rest of the trash; This had to be done not just for Dipper, and now for her departed mother. 

A loud, confused growl broke Wendy from her thoughts not long after she finished up with one last touch. She didn't need to take a guess at who it was, nor why such a noise escaped his lips. She hovered straight upward from the cabin, and watched from above. Her brothers were surrounding the heap of trash at the roadside, confused, while her Dad was nowhere to be seen but could be heard shouting and screaming and crashing about from inside.

"WHO DID THIS?"

To say Manly Dan was angry was a dangerous understatement. If his muffled yelling to the police over the phone relayed anything to Wendy, it was her Dad was exerting great amounts of control not to give in to his violent urges. Deep down, Wendy sort of knew this was going to be the result of her and Mom messing around with the house like that, but she wished she could have clung onto an innocent frame of mind about it. Wendy had no recourse but return to the Mystery Shack. The darkness of her loss was taking over, yet she hoped that Dipper would not only hear of this through some sort of grapevine soon, but turn to the light of the cave's entrance even sooner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to break my fall


	18. Stay in the cave

Wendy dropped into the Mystery Shack like a rock crashing in from space and found a rarely ventured corner to curl up and sink into. Wispy tears formed but never materialized while she painfully hitched and hiccuped and sieved off the agony that had built up in just a short span of time.

Wendy continued to sob while a front of grief barreled its way through her soul and pounded at her being like a supercell storm rolling across the plains. It's full intensity lasted for several minutes before abating to something calmer but still violent, which in time ebbed away until the flashes of pain dulled and lumbered off into the distance. Wendy calmed down, but was still deeply and irrevocably hurt by the whole experience, and despite being merely a specter, felt so exhausted that she wanted to go to sleep, or at least go into that strange trance not unlike sleep that filled her vision in bright white and low contrast.

"Hey! Hey dudes! You're not going to believe this!"

She snapped out of the daze she was in at that voice. "Soos?" Wendy straightened her form out and flew to the gift shop, where Soos was breathing heavily at the entrance while the Pines all ran in from the house itself; Wendy and Mabel nodded subtly at one another when their eyes met.

"Soos, what is it?" Stan asked. "It's not every day you run screaming to work."

"Someone broke into Manly Dan's cabin!"

All three Pines were at various levels of flabbergasty. Mabel glanced up to Wendy and she nodded back again. Stan put a hand to his head while his jaw went slightly askew. Dipper's eyes widened in some kind of hurt and shock, but was the first to speak.

"They... broke in?" Dipper had to drag the words into being. "Soos, where did you hear this?"

"I heard it on the radio while I was coming in, and I went over to check things out. Crazy thing is they can't find where those guys broke in! And the place was actually cleaned up! They can't find really anything missing in there. Well, except for... y'know... her room."

Dipper shot out in a manner that he just kept himself from unorganized, ballistic yelling. "What did they do?!"

"That's even crazier! Apparently, they organized her things. Like, what to keep, what to throw away; Dan's really upset at this one note, though."

"Note? What did it say?"

"I don't know. But Dan was screaming about it. I-I don't think I've seen him that angry before, guys, and that's saying something! He kept saying someone was forging Wendy's handwriting as some kind of prank."

Dipper's lips pulled themselves into a frown, and he turned around and slunk off into the kitchen. Mabel swiftly followed her brother, and Wendy lagged behind and settled in the doorway. Dipper's frown was now encompassing his entire face, unchanging even as he chugged down bitter coffee from a mug. He messed with his pants pocket, sour that he couldn't add any special ingredients to the sludge in front of his sister.

"Mabel, what is it?" He asked curtly. "I'm not in the mood to talk right now."

"I know you're not, bro. But do you think it could actually b-"

"No, Mabel!" Rudeness transmogrified into pissiness. "Don't go down this road with me, alright?! There's no way it could possibly have been Wendy. She's dead, Mabel!"

"But what if she was a ghost?"

"Bull _shit_. You and I both know she couldn't have become a ghost by herself, and there's no way the accident could have cursed her or anything like that! And besides, why would she even do that? I-It makes no sense! Why would a ghost come back just to clean out their old room?" Dipper's eyes darted right to left.

"Maybe..." Mabel bit her lip. "Maybe she would want for you to notice her?"

Dipper made a sneer at that, the coffee mug in his hands began to tremble. "What do you mean?"

"I mean th-"

"You know what? Never mind." Dipper set the mug down on the table with unintended force and bee-lined to the backdoor. "Tell Stan I had to cool off and take a walk. Don't really care if he gets it. I'll be back in a while."

Wendy slid herself outside without attracting Mabel's attention. She heard Mabel call out for her brother, but as Wendy refocused her sight on Dipper, it was clear that he was not heeding her words in favor of running off and hiding himself in the woods. Wendy followed Dipper's march to his favorite little corner, and he deftly squirmed up the tree and onto the platform.

Dipper sat in the middle of the treehouse, eyes closed, and made a true attempt at listening to the sounds of nature around him while taking in some deep breaths for good measure. Eventually, his confused rage burned out until it was simply confusion that was eating away at his being. He pulled his knees to his chest while he thought things over.

"No. It couldn't have been Wendy. I mean, technically Mabel could have brought Wendy's ghost back." Dipper groaned. "And maybe she's right. Maybe Wendy is floating around as a ghost. And maybe she doesn't hate me like I think she does..."

Wendy let herself be hopeful at these words. She didn't care if it was the analytical Dipper talking or this new version giving up in fighting. She clasped her hands together, and stared her friend down.

"C'mon, man. C'mon..."

Dipper slowly, forlornly, shook his head. "I don't even know anymore. Ugh, did I even write down the instructions correctly? Mabel could be lying to me! She wants to make me do this. She's forcing me, I know that!" Dipper growled. "Why, though? Why should I?! I already know what Wendy's going to tell me the second she appears before me! I'm not going to do it. I... I can't do it. I just can't. Th-this break-in doesn't change my mind in the least. I don't care if it really was Wendy at all!"

"What? _What_?! Oh my God, Dipper you... I... I can't believe you!" It felt like Dipper spat on her face; Rationally, she knew he had no clue about what had happened that weekend. Of the terrible demise her Mom's spirit had suffered, and of her witnessing such a horrible event. But his words were like a spark, and now Wendy had to control her own anger. It certainly didn't help when Dipper cracked open the cooler and imbibe on small amounts of his poisons.

"Just relax and forget everything, Dipper." He told himself in-between sips of liquor. "It'll be fine." 

" _No_ , it _won't_ be fine." Wendy growled. "I basically watched my Mom's spirit _die_. I've already seen her die before. Do you know how much it _hurts_ experiencing that again?! L-like, I wanted to puke after seeing that bastard monster drag her off! And you're not helping by shitting all over that, you know?!" Wendy gnarled her hands until she was choking at air. "You are making it really hard call you a friend right now. You know that, you asshole?!"

Wendy let herself have her fit. She swung her arms at Dipper, fists phasing through him while he continued talking himself out of believing in her spiritual existence. Hands desperately wanting to unlock the paranormal power to wring necks could only cut through Dipper's body like butter. Wendy tired out, ultimately becoming ashamed in wanting to beat Dipper up once logic was able to worm about her head, though she was unable to entirely let go of her justifications. She was ashamed of herself, but she was still pretty damn angry.

She reluctantly directed herself back to the Shack along with Dipper in lieu of her desire to stay at the hideout to cool off herself. She didn't want to have a Gravekeeper spot her, as she knew she'd try taking out the last of her aggressions on the imposing hellbeast in a one-sided battle.

Wendy's hatred bubbled down to a fierce disappointment tinged with sadness and hurt from the events back home by the time night rolled by and she had to keep her watchful eye on Dipper. He was still deeply agitated by the morning's events, and by night was more than eager to smother it to death once and for all. Dipper reluctantly loaded himself up and settled in for another night of odd feelings in his largely thoughtless head, and with his earbuds, he stuck himself into that familiar, deep, hypnotic state.

Wendy needed to pace around the boundaries of the treehouse as she tried working though her utter disenchantment towards Dipper. Just how did he get here? Why was he doing this to himself? Why did he keep doing this if he really did know better? Why was he abandoning the person he once was for one that, Wendy forced herself to admit, sucked? Why did he prefer to be so reactive and elusive and so angry? Just how did he get here?

There could have been millions of other possibilities Dipper could have turned to deal with the trauma that could have made him into a better person. _Why this?_

Wendy knew the risk of sifting through Dipper's head even when sober. There was a latent sixth sense that was trying its absolute hardest to tell him of a presence, but its messages would become garbled once it hit the surface of consciousness. She wasn't sure if she'd get the answers that she wanted, or how well Dipper would take this psychic violation, but he was regretful of himself and his actions. He needed to have thought this often, and with her odds estimated, she reached in.

_"Ugh! C'mon, Dipper. You gotta let it go." Dipper said this to himself while he sat at the very top of the bleachers at what Wendy could only assume was his high school back home with homework and chewed-up pencil. "You need to focus on math right now. It's all okay now. It's over. You don't have to be afraid anymore. Stop feeling guilty. Can't let anyone know there's something wrong."_

_Wendy hovered above Dipper while he would breeze through two or three math problems, stop, then berate himself for letting the memory of the accident intrude into his mind once again. Under his breath he muttered something about wanting to get into a good college. He was shaken out of both tasks, however, when a harsh bang trembled from under him._

_"Oh God... oh God!" A freshman voice quivered from below, his breath high in his lungs._

_"Uh, hey. Is there an-"_

_"Shh!" The boy ordered. "Please, don't let them know I'm here!"_

_Dipper and Wendy, both high up in the bleachers, one floating above them, managed to find several burly teenagers scrambling from around a corner and down the field towards them. The boy below whimpered as one called out._

_"Hey, you!"_

_"What, me?" Dipper asked._

_"Yeah! Did you see some small blonde freshman run by here?"_

_Dipper smartly shook his head. "Not at all."_

_A second one pointed towards the bleachers. "Wait, there he is!"_

_The altercation that followed smeared in front of Wendy. Dipper got in-between the freshman and the giant muscles, and tried to use reason to talk the bullies away from their plans. The vision blurred, and once it returned, it was just Dipper and the boy, both with bruises on their faces, but with Dipper obviously having faced the brunt of the onslaught. The scene had also changed from the outdoors of the school football field to a residential bathroom. Both were smiling and joking about something that the fog of time obscured, but it was apparent that the two had become friends very quickly. It was a sweet memory, but Wendy was getting annoyed that she had slipped into the wrong one._

_When the two went outside and into a messy living room, they were greeted by several more people, surrounding a small TV and playing some sort of fighting game. One, a fat teenager in desperate need of a shower, dropped their controller and bear hugged Dipper._

_"Oh man! I just gotta thank you for getting my little bro out of that mess!"_

_Dipper squirmed his way out and put in some distance between them. "No, really, I'm fine. Anyone with a good heart would've done the sa-"_

_"No, man! I'm grateful you saved Keith like that. I gotta repay you! C'mon, join us! Would you want something to drink?"_

_"Well, uh..." Dipper chuckled, and sat himself down at the free recliner. "Sure, I guess. I'll have to leave in a couple hours for dinner, but I can stay until then."_

_"Cool! Here, catch!"_

_Dipper had to think fast when a cold, wet can was lobbed to him. He inspected the can and bit his lip. "Don't you guys have any soda?"_

_The only girl in the room cracked open a smaller, plastic bottle and took a globful of the junk. "Joey technically does, but c'mon, Dip."_

_Dipper blushed, though whether out of attraction or flattery that already a nickname of a nickname was being used Wendy couldn't tell. "Well, thing is, I've never drank before..."_

_"Well, let me tell you something. It's great." She continued. "It's great to forget about crap and just live in the moment."_

_"Yeah, especially with your parents." The last person in the room, some large guy, wrapped his arm around her. "I mean seriously..."_

_Dipper thought. "Forget, huh? To be honest, I could use something like that right about now." He pulled open the tab and took a sip. He pulled a face of disgust. "Ugh! Gross!"_

_"Dude, just chug it." The large teenager huffed, annoyed. "Either that or use it as an ice pack."_

_Wendy watched Dipper consider his options before he steeled himself and down the entire can. The teenagers around him cheered him on while Wendy was ready to puke at this revelation. These friends of Dipper's just didn't know what they had done to him just then._

_And as she predicted, it all started because of them._

When Wendy left Dipper's mind, she watched as his mind broke, once he snapped out of his trance and his twisted sixth sense babbled out a half-hearted spiel about a paranormal curse placed on him. He wobbled to the cooler and took a swig at the whiskey bottle, then another several minutes later, then put it away as he began to fully pass out. Wendy groaned, wishing she didn't hurt Dipper like this. The knowledge of how it started was only wanted out of curiosity. She wasn't quite sure how it could be used to help. What she had considered important was already learned. Dipper wanted to forget. And by his behavior these past weeks, he was willing to use whatever was necessary to do it, even if it kills him in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just try and play through the pain


	19. I can't hear you in the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad news: Gravity Falls (as we know it) is ending. Shouldn't have come as much of a shock, but man, so many theories down the toilet that it became a shock anyway.
> 
> Good news: Digimon Adventure Tri has started and helped cure my blues from the above. Like seriously, I love Digimon. Just look at my username for proof. Plot twist: I identify with Joe more than I should, and one day maybe I'll have a Crest of Reliability tattoo, who knows?
> 
> And man, Beautiful Gas Mask has to be my favorite track from All Eternals Deck, if only because it fits the whole theme of the fic I'm trying to go for and more.

Soos's birthday came and went without any fanfare, but the next day the Pines had overloaded themselves with too much barbeque, more so without Dipper's help, and they turned in early for the night. The past few days were quiet, tame and a good time for Wendy to come to grips after the disaster that was Monday morning. For whatever reason, Dipper skipped his nightly camp out Wednesday night, instead opting to curl up in bed. Wendy felt like she definitely missed something. Her very frequent dazing out to that strange white space with the soft colors was becoming a personal nuisance. Coming out of them left always left Wendy confused as to where she was, and when she did reorient herself, it left her confused in general.

Thursday night, Dipper got out of bed the very second his sister began to dream, and padded out the door and into the treeline with a sense of shameful urgency. Wendy sailed after him out of both necessity and habit, as her friend was growing increasingly unhinged and secretive throughout the day. Dipper breathed heavily throughout his trek, and twinkles of sad desperation crossed his eyes whenever Wendy caught the waxing moonlight hit them.

The two crossed the small ledge and Dipper made a pressured launch forward towards the small clearing that contained his tree hideout. Though, his ears picked up something, and he looked up the second his woodsy home came into view. Dipper froze dead in his tracks.

"Oh no. No, no."

Wendy followed Dipper's gaze up to the hideout, and even she felt that same sinking feeling in her chest as Dipper just had. The lantern's glow was emanating, faded slightly from a battery past its prime, and the rope ladder had been unfurled and left dangling just above the ground. The two could hear soft strumming of a guitar from the treehouse, and saw the warbling person up there, cigarette in hand, unaware of the young man that had since crept upward towards the trunk of the tree.

_Wish I knew where'd you gone_

Wendy couldn't help but hear some haunting sounds from beyond the trees, but couldn't pinpoint where or what the cryptic words meant. Dipper was hesitant about climbing upwards, not sure of who or what he'd face once he reached the top, but Wendy had no such reservation. She knew who it had to be, surprised that he remembered the location of this place, and when she stopped her ascension, she found that she was right.

Even with his back turned, Robbie's body profile was still strongly highlighted by the lantern. Wendy groaned when she spotted an empty beer bottle next to her friend; the amount of drugs that have somehow gotten into this place was beyond ludicrous. She had half a mind to tear the place apart at this point, even if her friends had to be here as it all goes down. Before she could entertain the idea, a hand reached up from below the deck and grasped firmly at the nearest post and hoisted half a body above the threshold.

"Robbie?"

At once, the guitar stopped, and Robbie looked up at Dipper. They stayed like that for a moment, before Robbie looked down at his guitar to continue strumming as Dipper clambered onto the platform.

"'Sup?" Robbie paused to take a drag. "It's been a while. So, uh... how're you doing?"

"Why are you here?" Dipper's voice was tinged in venom; Just what was this interloper doing here?

"Came up here to practice. Think. ...Visit Wendy, you know?"

"Yeah. The cemetary's that way." Dipper gestured off in completely the wrong direction.

"It's too depressing seeing her grave, though. Tried to, but I couldn't. Besides, didn't she say that this was a special place to her?"

Dipper picked up the empty bottle. "Define special, Robbie. Would losing your virginity count?"

Robbie stopped plucking at the guitar's strings. "What? How do you know that?!"

"She told me when she showed me this place." Dipper looked around wistfully, remembering that day. "I drenched her in soda in revenge, she did the same in retaliation..."

Robbie scoffed. "Dude, what are you talking about?"

The question hung in the air, dying as it went unanswered. "You know Wendy hated smoking."

Robbie couldn't help but laugh. "What? Seriously!? You're tripping out on dex up here and you have the gall to bitch about this?" He waggled the cigarette in his hand. "Your hypocrisy's showing pretty hard right now."

"You're wanting to honor her memory, and yet you're doing the one thing she hated most about you."

"Hey, man!" Robbie warned. "You're wanting to pick a fight is probably the very last thing you can do to honor Wendy, you know that?"

Dipper's own sneer transmogrified to a full scowl. "I'm not picking a fight! You are!"

"Fuck off, dweeb!" The guitar was put down, and Robbie stood up, getting right into Dipper's face. "I'm not fighting you, alright?!"

Wendy's ghost dragged a hand down her face, "Ugh! You're both fighting right now, you dicks! I know neither of you can't hear me, but... please, just this once... listen?"

Dipper threw out his arms to give Robbie a shove. "Maybe don't get up in my face and I can believe that!"

"Woah! Hey!" Robbie regained his balance not a moment sooner. "You could've killed me just then, dick! What if I fell over?"

"Then my problem's solved."

Robbie scoffed again. "I think I'm the least of your problems if you're such a raging alcoholic and d...dexaholic!" He stuck the cigarette between his lips.

Dipper's face scrunched up; A cognizance that crossed his eyes was bewildered. "I-I... it's not for fun, if you're insinuating that! It's only until I can get past that day. Then I'm done."

"...Uh-huh." Bemused smoke poured out from his nose, then Robbie took the cigarette in his fingers. "Do you know how many times I said that to myself, kid? I pretty much gave up the day the cops decided I looked like some criminal they were searching for."

Wendy remembered that day. She and Robbie, still a third time around couple, had been walking down to the arcade in the late winter snow. It was the longest he went without smoking, a month, but that didn't mean he wouldn't take advantage of the cold air to be a little shit. A county cop car pulled up and began asking questions of him. Yes, he was at the concert last night. Yes, he did leave early. They looked at the description they'd jotted down, then asked him to come with.

Robbie hadn't taken it too well, and after several grueling hours, as heard from Thompson, he scrambled out of the police station sweating and reeling. They broke up the next day when they met up. Wendy saw a lit cigarette, first in his mouth, then in the soggy gray snow melt when her fist smacked his face.

"Yeah, Wendy'd told me all about that." She redirected her attention back to the quarrel at Dipper's words. "But that's different."

"Yeah. Sure." Robbie coughed. "Different." He kept his glare to something off in the velvety darkness. "...You know, this isn't fun for me either. Been hacking my brains out, but at least I'm not going to some different astral plane or some crap every time I do this! You're getting beyond smashed trying to kill yourself."

"...B-But she hated smoking. She always had!" Dipper was refusing the checkmate before him.

"Is that really the best you can come up with? Let me repeat: I think Wendy would be far more pissed off with what you're doing to yourself than what I'm doing to myself. You're killing yourself because of what happened to her! Talk about honoring her memory!" Robbie spat. "And you're doing this up here? I mean, Jesus _fuck_ , man."

This was a new situation for Dipper. He had been wrong before, and he had been in places where he couldn't explain himself. His hands were down to his sides, trembling from intense emotion, and his fingers rubbed against one another to come up with something. He had only met back up with Robbie for all of ten minutes if that, and already the nineteen-year old had dropped the kid gloves to dish out harsh truths regarding Dipper's problem. Wendy was amazed; more important people in Dipper's life treated the issue with respect. Maybe too much. They wanted to dodge the issue. Her ex wasn't having any of that and felt no qualms in being harsh, and for whatever reason it was working.

_Know you're there, off in the shadows somewhere_

There it was again, from another direction, but equally as distant, shrouded in some unseeable fog. It all had to be in her head.

"You know what though?" Robbie put out his cigarette on the cooler. "Just fucking do it. Drink yourself to death, or overdose, or whatever! Jesus, if Wendy could see you right now, man, she'd be sick to her stomach. I mean look at yourself! You're pathetic! Just like when you tried to save her! Fucking... you more or less fucking killed her with your lame attempt at saving her life, you know that? Her chest was already crushed enough, but I guess you had to make sure it'd do her in!"

And all at once, he blew it. Robbie couldn't help but vomit out his pent up feelings towards the most vulnerable person, at the worst possible time, in the most crass way possible. Dipper had dropped to his knees, balled himself up and shrouded himself in the blanket. Choked, quiet, stuttering moans and sobs escaped his throat while the mental imagery of the accident rammed its way through his mind's eye with its massive, foreboding form. He could do nothing to stop this now that the avalanche was in full force, and so he hunkered down, bent over himself with bristling quills. Robbie's eyes widened when he had the realization that he had hit a very vulnerable spot in Dipper's psyche.

"Dude... dude, are you okay?" Robbie's voice was very soft and quiet, genuinely ashamed at himself. "I'm really sorry I said that, alright? I got too carried away. I really didn't mean... I know that you really aren't to blame for... You tried, but it didn't... I didn't know you were going to freak out like this, an-an-"

" _Go away_." Wendy could hear the way Dipper had said that; He was definitely not talking to the monsters in his mind.

"Whuh?"

Dipper punctuated each word whilst staggering up with a distressingly flat tone, "Go away Robbie." He reached for Robbie's guitar. "Do it or I'm gonna make you leave."

"Woah, man. You wouldn't!"

"I will literally smash this thing over your head until you're face is a pulp if you don't leave right now."

"Dipper, _what _?!" Wendy was floored; Sure, Dipper had the occasional skirmish, and had a dislike for Robbie, and Robbie himself definitely deserved something for that remark, but this was barbaric.__

__Dipper grabbed at the guitar's neck; by the way his grasping hand trembled, the considerate Dipper was trying his hardest not to let his aggression take over. Obviously, he was giving Robbie a choice, and had easily let go when Robbie swiped back his instrument in fright of the younger man._ _

__"Okay, okay, okay!" Robbie babbled while he shoved his guitar back in its case and pulled it over himself. "Look, I'm leaving! You don't have to beat me with my own stuff! You're acting crazy, man!" His feet made contact on the top rung and Robbie began his descent. "Seriously, dude. Get some help!"_ _

__"You say that like I haven't tried."_ _

__"Well try harder, dumbass!" Robbie ducked to avoid having the empty beer bottle smash into his face. "Alright, alright! I'm going! Jesus!"_ _

__Robbie had slid past the ladder rungs and bumbled off into the darkness groping. Wendy gave him the small assistance of slipping his phone out of his pocket and dropping it to the ground. Robbie turned back, bewildered, but picked up the phone and activated the flashlight from within. He was already too spooked from Dipper's behavior to even want to think about how his device slipped out of a pocket that deep. Once he had left the area, Wendy returned to the deck where Dipper tremored alone against the cooler. The altercation with Robbie had ended, but his words throughout still hung in the air._ _

___"...If Wendy could see you right now, man, she'd be sick to her stomach."  
"Killed her with your lame attempt."_ _ _

__Too much. It was too much to handle. He opened the cooler and dug into his reserve. "I have to forget. No, I need to. I can't take it." Dipper chugged down from the large bottle of alcohol. "Oh God, why am I doing this?" He seemed instantly regretful of this action, but continued forth under the edict of forgetting. He eventually closed the bottle and nestled it back into the cooler, only to pull out three small and new bottles of red ooze. "Whatever. I don't care what happens." Dipper said when he downed the first. "I don't care if I die from this." The second was emptied. "I need to forget this all." The third bottle was closed, half emptied._ _

__"There. It's done. I can't go back. Whatever happens, so be it!"_ _

__Dipper was hellbent on reaching his end goal: Forget or die trying. Either result would be favorable to him. His paling, already regretful form sat with his back to the tree trunk, playing around with the label on the third cough syrup bottle, thinking, until he opened the bottle up once more to finish it off. Dipper then took a huge breath, almost yawn-like, and shut his eyes. Wendy waited, praying that he'd not pass out so soon. She realized what a terrible situation Dipper was not only getting himself into, but had dragged her into as well._ _

__"Okay. Okay." Wendy pushed her fingers through her hair. "This is getting bad. What do you do, Wendy? You need to get Mabel. That much is obvious. But what if Dipper does something incredibly stupid when I'm gone?" The possibilities coursed through Wendy's babbling mind as her voice rose to a falsetto. "I-I can't. I can't leave him. But what if he overdosed or something? That was a _lot_ of dex! I can't just... I mean, I..."_ _

__But she did. Frozen by indecision that was soon replaced by a sensation of something burning out in her, Wendy had unintentionally made her decision to stay. Dipper, after a good number of minutes had passed, clumsily crawled on his hands and knees to his backpack and took out his handheld system. He played for all of two minutes before shutting it off and placing it down. His mind had to be drowning in static by now, Wendy guessed, when he crawled back to his post with even less coordination. He shut his eyes again, and predictably the shock of alcohol in his body lulled him to a stuporous sleep not too long after._ _

__"Oh no, Dipper! Oh no, be okay. Be okay! Holy shit, this is bad!"_ _

__Wendy panicked. She had not seen Dipper pass out cold so quickly before. She found herself pulling in to her friend, and reached out a ghostly hand to try and feel a pulse. Her arm went right through Dipper's body and through the floorboards._ _

__She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him awake. She wanted to check his breathing. She wanted the psychic strength to pull him up and drag him in the direction civilization lay and scream for help. In the chaos, she overreached and grasped Dipper's mind. And at once, she was transported to another world._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Try to soldier on


	20. Get me outta my head

_She was floating above the scene that started it all. Wendy watched herself go limp in the wreckage of her car, unable to push another ounce of desperate energy through her veins despite all she had already done to get herself in this position. Bystanders, afraid for their own lives, remained at their distant posts, all with the hopeless desire to just get over their primal fears in their eyes. They were praying for some sort of miracle to stop the growing engine pyre in its tracks, but the flames and smoke grew._

_Wendy noticed Dipper the moment he came into view. He immediately stopped when his eyes locked onto her body. She could hear his thoughts screaming. The thoughts were filled with such traumatic fear and horror, and the volume of his flailing thoughts pierced through Wendy's ears._

_'Oh my God, Wendy!'  
'I need to help her!'_

_'Oh God no!'  
'Why isn't anybody doing SOMETHING?'_

_'There's so much fire!'_

_'Is she dead?'  
'I don't want her to die!'_

_'Her car's gonna explode!'_

_'Why this?! Why me?! Why her?!'_

_'I have to do something!'_  
'I'm afraid!'  
'Someone help!' 

_'Run away!'  
'Don't run away!'_

_'Save her!'_

_'Help!'  
'Please!'_

_'Oh God the fire!'_

_'Is she moving?!'_  
'Save her, Dipper.'  
'I can't do it!' 

_'She's still alive!'_

_'I got to SAVE HER.'_

_And then he bolted towards the car. By then, the fire, which was still actually quite small, became a trailing fuse, running closer to the dynamite. With no way to quantify, Wendy knew that Dipper didn't know how much time he had left. For all he knew he was running towards his own demise. But he ran fast anyway, stopping on a dime when he was at Wendy's side. Her prying spirit moved in close, between herself and Dipper, and saw the horror in his eyes uncontrollably grow in intensity. All the glass shards that had cut through and embedded themselves in her left her head, torso, and arms a bleeding mess, one that Wendy herself couldn't distinctly remember and thus was just as horrified in seeing. More thoughts yelled at Dipper in the forever masking away the three or so short seconds that actually transpired._

_'Do something! Save her!'_  
'What are you doing?!'  
'Dipper you shithead! Don't just stand there!' 

_'Run!'  
'Freeze!'_

_'What do I do?!'_

_'She's really hurt!'_

_'Oh God there's blood!'  
'I hate blood!'_

_'The fire!'  
'Do something idiot!'_

_'There's no time!'_  
'Stop standing there!'  
'Do something!'  
'Stop thinking and do something!' 

_'Pull her out!'_

_Dipper was simply doing what intuition was telling him. He hooked his right arm under Wendy's right arm, and left for left. He visibly turned pale when he noticed Wendy's limp arm swing down in an unnatural movement, but regained composure in an instant and, with a foot on the bottom of the car, began to pull. It didn't matter to him at the moment how Wendy would get out, so long as she was out, and through continuously intensifying pulling and struggling, what had to be some form of hysterical strength won out. Wendy's body became wholly dislodged and was being dragged at a brisk clip._

_'Look at her chest you idiot!'_  
'You're hurting her!'  
'You're dragging her too fast!' 

_'Stop jostling her around!'_  
'Look at her!'  
'Are you trying to kill her faster?'  
'What the hell was that with yanking her out?!' 

_'Fix this!'_

_'You're not dragging her away fast enough!'  
'Her car's gonna blow any second! MOVE.' _

_'Why aren't you keeping her spine straight?'  
'Why are you not keeping her torso from bending?'_

_'She's gonna die from this.'  
'Stop this shit.'_

_After a good thirty feet, Dipper finally thought the distance between them and the danger was good enough and layed her stirring body onto the pavement. He knelt down and Wendy tracked his eyes as he went down her body to assess the damage, although they hovered constantly back to her chest and feasted on the asymmetry caused by the half of her ribcage blown in._

_'Oh shit oh shit oh SHIT.'_

_'How do I fix this?!'  
'I can't fix this!' _

_'I need to save her!'  
'What'll I do if she dies on me?!' _

_'I made it worse!'  
'Don't move her anymore!'_

_Dipper's focus snapped back into the moment as Wendy's broken body returned to consciousness and her pained face choked on words of gratitude. The coughing fit pained the three of them; Her spirit remembered how crushing the pain was. Simply breathing was the hardest thing in the world to do._

_'Was that blood?! I don't know!'_  
'Ask her what's hurting!'  
'The paramedics need to know this!' 

_She heard the same line of questioning and drowsy, vaguely crackly series of answers. Dipper picked up her wrist for a pulse._

_'She's cold!'_  
'This isn't normal!'  
'She's lost so much blood!'  
'This is hypothermia!'  
'This is SHOCK.' 

_'Gotta help gotta help gotta help.'_

_'Need to keep her warm.'_  
'Need to find something warm.'  
'Give her your vest, it's warm.'  
'It's not warm enough.'  
'Find something warm.'  
'Do it now.' 

_'She's gonna die while you're gone.'_  
'She'll die if you stay here.'  
'Do something.'  
'Fix this.' 

_'Find a blanket!'_

_Dipper took off his vest and after covering Wendy's abdomen, stood up and ran towards a row of parallel parked cars. He clawed at every door handle for every car that had something even remotely close to what he needed to have. Wendy watched as, by some insane luck, a car in direct sunlight was not only holding the grand prize, but the one rear passenger door had been left unlocked. Dipper delved and greedily gathered the white hot, pastel blanket in his arms and started running back. Wendy saw Dipper flinch as the fire from her car exploded and engulfed the entire front chassis. He recovered quickly and, as he had layed the blanket over Wendy's freezing body, her disembodied spirit noted it was an unusually large child's blanket, maybe even a toddler's. But whoever's it was, it was promptly ruined when Wendy's blood began staining through the thin sheet._

_'What are you doing Wendy?'_  
'No this is good.'  
'Please stop this is good.'  
'Can't you see that this is good?'  
'This is good.' 

_'Why isn't she getting any better?'_  
'Is she starting to pass out?'  
'Is she trying to tell me something?' 

_Dipper leaned in close and got awkwardly huge drops of sputnum hacked onto his face; the Wendy observing this action would have smirked at this if it were any other situation, but by the bright red that had flown out, she was nauseated. More so when Dipper scooped up several of these drops with his fingers and, upon seeing what he had picked up, went pale himself. His mouth was agape and eyes were wide. Compulsion ordered Dipper to yell out for help and bark out orders to a stranger to keep Wendy's legs up, but even with that, he was still pressed against himself, unsure of what to do._

_'Do something.'_  
'She's passing out.'  
'No, don't let her pass out.' 

_'Now's not the time to cry, man!'_  
'I don't know what to do.'  
'Hold it in.'  
'Be strong.' 

_'You can fix this.'  
'You can save her, Dipper.'_

_'Comfort her.'_

_'Do something.'  
'Was I too late?'_

_'Talk to her.'_  
'Can she still hear?'  
'Is she breathing?'  
'...Is she BREATHING?!' 

_Dipper's hands moved from squeezing Wendy's hand to hovering over her mouth and nose. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!"_

_'It's not good enough! She needs air! Give her as much as you can!'  
'Breathe!'_

_He licked his dried lips and steeled himself. Tentative deep breaths, followed by the pinching shut of her nose and pulling of her jaw open, prefaced the final deep breath before plunging downward to supply Wendy with the breath she needed. Then another. A few more words of encouragement, then a third breath. The dark thoughts that were beaten back surged forward with a ferocious black intensity._

_'No you idiot!'_  
'What are you doing?! You're hurting her!'  
'I'm hurting her!'  
'Is her lung hurt?'  
'You're gonna hurt her lung! Stop giving her air!'  
'No! Give her air! She needs it!' 

_'Is her heart beating?'_

_Dipper paused and checked Wendy's pulse while continuously reassuring her that things would be alright. He was trembling wildly, and without any input from his eerily silent thoughts, he placed palm over palm and rhythmically pushed at the center of Wendy's chest. Her ghost could hear his thoughts explode._

_'WHAT ARE YOU DOING? STOP!'_  
'You're gonna kill her!'  
'You're killing her!' 

_'But she needs it!'_

_'She doesn't need it and you are killing her stop killing her you are killing her look at her chest you are fucking killing her you stupid piece of shit!'_

_'BUT SHE NEEDS IT.'_

_Dipper's thoughts muddied his CPR process; while he still talked to Wendy with an increasing quiver in his voice, he shook violently and needed to fight against his screaming inner monologue just to give his friend air. He demanded loudly for her to breathe. A misaimed and quick thrust with his palms downward met with the feeling of unnatural movement, and Wendy's observing spirit could see his eyes glisten the instant he realized his mistake._

_'YOU IDIOT. SHE'S DEAD NOW AND YOU KILLED HER. YOU IDIOT. YOU IDIOT!'_

_An ambulance sprung into focus from an unknown direction; of couse Dipper wouldn't remember where it came from in his thoughts now they trapped him in its tar pit. He was gently brushed aside by one paramedic while another took vitals and vocalized blurry words to their partner. A third arrived with a stretcher loaded with a backboard. Details swam around and time's arrow lurched faster and slower. A fire engine had shown up from somewhere to take care of the inferno, and several cop cars dotted the scene. Wendy's body was braced at the back and neck, bag mask strapped to her face, taken briskly away on the stretcher and into the ambulance, which made little delay in leaving the scene, towards its destination._

_Something new happened at this point as Wendy observed this memory. It hadn't stopped, nor did it end. It was stuck; looping audio like a CD played Dipper's abusive inner monologue as he knelt, frozen in time. The world his memory had constructed was severely constricted, focusing just on him and the bloodied spot on the pavement where Wendy's body was lain. No bystanders. No cars. No garish blanket. Just him and his thoughts._

'YOU IDIOT'

_Dipper began to move, and Wendy thought that the memory was starting to play again, starting where it had let off, but the spotlight didn't widen. He and Wendy's peeping spirit watched in horror at the bloodied pavement. A ghastly form of Wendy rose from the ground, glowing deep red and body decimated with the injuries she had sustained. Her expression was beyond angered, and as her mouth opened, long, razored fangs glistened. She uttered the very thing Dipper's thoughts were shouting._

'YOU _IDIOT_ '

_Dipper looked desperate for an escape. He raised his arms, palms up, as if begging God for some kind of mercy, before he made tight, enraged fists and pulled his right arm back. The nightmare visage of his dead friend moved in closer, and screamed._

'YOU _GODDAMN **IDIOT**_

The fist lunged forward and an explosion of colors concussed Wendy backwards. She landed back into reality, into the hideout. It didn't take long for her vision to settle and come back into focus. Dipper's fist had landed into the tree trunk; his face was that of pure fear and desperation before the pain registered and it contorted to a gritted frown. Eyes squinted and eventually shut tight. The fist was gingerly pulled back and devolved into a jittery hand.

"O-ow..."

The pain brought Dipper back into reality, anchoring his delirious, stoned psyche to the present moment and situation. He inspected his knuckles. They weren't broken, but they stung fiercely. They had been skinned badly between the coarse tree bark and his wooziness. Blood was already beading at the deepest points of injury, causing Dipper to clumsily crawl over to his backpack in the dim light of the lantern, straight for the first-aid kit.

He placed it down on the blanket and opened up the case. He didn't bother to clean the wound or put on any antiseptic, and went for the tape bandage immediately. Lack of coordination forced Dipper to wrap more tape around his knuckles than he wanted, unintentionally taping together his middle and ring finger. He then shoved the remainder back into the kit, which itself was shoved into the backpack. Dipper let his body slacken and ultimately slump into a supine position. He was back under full influence of the drugs.

"Why did I 'member that?" Dipper had little physical control over his tongue. "I don't wanna think that anymore." He desperately fumbled for the nearest emptied cough syrup bottle and stuck a finger down it to scoop up the sticky residue to then lick off. "Why won't it stop?!"

His eyes were watery and refused to stop crossing. Dipper attempted to stand up for reasons Wendy couldn't fathom, but she could tell just how badly the world spun about for Dipper when he had stood for all of three seconds. He tipped backwards and landed on his side, just close enough in the center of the hideout to avoid hitting his head on a pole, let alone fall out of the tree entirely. Dipper shut his eyes tightly, only opening them back up when he was sure he wouldn't go sick from his surrounding's pulsations.

The wind had hit intensely out of nowhere. Wendy could feel herself be chilled by it, and hunched her arms together. The cold made no sense to her, but as it continued, she felt less and less of its bite. A raindrop fell in front of her, then another, and soon enough a light rain came to be.

"Wendy?" Dipper slurred, snapping back to awareness from a raindrop that hit right into his ear. "Are ya there?" Eyes darted around nervously. "Please," He gulped. "Don't hate me. I fucked up badly." Eyes went wide as a vivid imagination broke free. "If you're there, don't eat my brains. Don't be a zombie ghost. Don't kill me!" Breathing became quick and shallow. "I-I-I can do it by myself! Look!" He stumbled over himself to the cooler. "I can just lock myself up here really nice and throw myself into a lake. Or maybe smash my head with the lid! R-really, I'll do whatever it takes to off myself if it makes you feel better about me killing you!"

"No, Dipper." Wendy frowned. "Please, dude, I don't want to see you like this."

An owl from a nearby tree hooted and dove towards the ground at some prey, zooming past Dipper's left. He was startled badly, and skittered in the opposite direction. 

"Oh shit! You're gonna kill me with owls!" Dipper hit the deck with a gag and covered his head. "They're gonna peck my eyes out first, a-and-and slowly work their way down and devour me until I'm nothing than bones!" Dipper had held his breath, Wendy assumed, so as to avoid detection from the malevolence, and held it as far as he could before he could go no further and lunged up for air. He gasped up needed oxygen for several moments, almost hyperventilating but having a flash of insight come from the level-headed human inside a lost void of his shattered sanity.

"Oh God, I'm getting paranoid. Read about this! This is bad! I had too much!" Dipper rubbed his hair with his palms violently. "I'm gonna go nuts! Gonna get a psychotic bre-"

He heaved suddenly, and looked ready to puke. Dipper hastily dragged himself over to the edge of the bungalow, lifted himself over the barrier, and vomited gooey, cartoonishly red gastric acid onto the forest floor. In the dash, he had knocked his loose handheld game system over the edge; Wendy had just managed to catch it before it could crash, and let it down gently back in the treehouse. Meanwhile, Dipper puked out what little stomach contents he had until he could only dry heave, arms trembling and eventually giving out. His face slammed into the barrier, and his body crumpled up as he went down. Dipper laid prone and motionless for the longest time, carving out a pit of panic in Wendy's stomach. What just happened? What was happening to him? Was he dying and passed out? Would he die? _Was he already dead?_

Dipper's limbs slowly twitched back to life, and he took a few deep breaths to prepare himself for movement. That racing feeling of dread Wendy had felt only a moment before was flushed out partially with mild relief. Wendy, in all honesty, felt more exhausted than anything. These rapid series of scares from this shell of one of her best friends had tired her mentally and emotionally. She did nothing to help as a result, and she watched him pull himself back to the center of the bungalow, and curl himself back under the blanket.

"Jus' go away." Dipper closed his eyes tightly and covered his ears with his hands. "Jus' stoppit. Please..."

Somehow, those pleading words tugged at Wendy's heart less than she expected it to. She felt less sorrowful for Dipper. Her annoyance had grown a little more, and as Dipper drifted to a dreamless unconsciousness, Wendy realized that she was starting to get tired of this husk that housed her friend's broken spirit. She hated this husk and wanted to choke this mutation to its demise, but she still loved the spirit that lay buried deep inside too much to seriously consider the possibility. The true essence of Dipper had to still be in there somewhere. Wendy had seen it emerge on those rare instances the last few weeks. He was in there. He needed to be.

It was with this knowledge that Wendy sailed away from the hideout and Dipper. It pained her to do this, making a beeline towards the Shack, but Mabel couldn't be kept in the dark about her brother's hideout any longer. She finally had to break her promise to him, for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting kinda cramped, you know


	21. Everything you love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought I'd let you guys know that every time my spellcheck encounters Grunkle it suggests that I change it to Grunge and all I can think of is Stan singing 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' while in that typical early 90's grunge look.
> 
> You're right, Stan Kobain, this _is_ stupid!

Wendy had practically slammed her way into the attic at 2 in the morning and woke Mabel up by removing the pillow from under her slumbering head. She had tried to keep her voice from wavering, simply saying that Dipper had snuck off and she wanted Mabel to come with. She had meant to describe just what he was doing before Mabel flew out of bed and hustled herself to get ready.

Mabel followed Wendy's ghost like a beacon. Wendy had insisted while Mabel changed from nightwear to daywear to grab the lantern, and refused to leave until she had, but ended up carrying it herself when she had turned around and Mabel was practically out the door with a bag that she had stored under her bed. Wendy thus led the way with the electric lantern floating ahead of her, its powerful light flooding the forestry around them. Wendy looked back often to see if the older Pines twin was still following. Of course she was. Mabel had been unusually silent, and too focused on the task at hand to be distracted by petty things. Her brother was in a peril of his own making.

Wendy pointed out where they would break away from the path, and floated rightward into the underbrush. Mabel followed, keeping up her pace despite Wendy's warnings regarding the terrain. At least, though, Mabel could only go so far as the light reached, and thus Wendy was able to keep the older twin from straying too far. Wendy stopped, and guided Mabel through the final thicket before reaching the secret tree hideout.

"He's up there."

Wendy tried to shine the lantern in such a way that would point to the bungalow. She couldn't, but she shot up to where Dipper was and swung the lantern around to catch Mabel's attention. Secretly though, Wendy wanted to check on the younger twin to make sure his condition hadn't gotten any worse before returning. His breathing was slow, but thankfully steady, and there was no evidence that he'd been sick again. The last thing Wendy wanted was to lead Mabel to a fresh corpse.

Mabel was quiet, thinking, as Wendy sunk back down to her level. "What's he doing?"

"Passed out cold on syrup and booze." Wendy sighed. "Just another normal night around these parts."

Mabel found the rope ladder and started climbing upward. She was unnervingly silent, and as Wendy followed her up back to Dipper, she couldn't help but try and break the silence.

"He... got into a lot of it tonight. It's probably best to have him sleep most of it out until sunrise? His breathing seems a little light..." Wendy could feel her voice emanating just how tired she felt about the whole thing relaying her advice.

Mabel gave little regard to the structure she was now standing in and focused all her attention to the bundled up lump in the middle, slowly rising up and down, up and down. Wendy carefully peeled back the blanket off of Dipper's head, giving the young man fresh air and exposing locks of sweaty hair to the cool, damp night. Dipper groaned just the slightest, but quickly returned to full senselessness. A wide yet shallow bruise from where he slammed his face was forming diagonally on his face, going from his left cheek to just above his right eyebrow.

"Oh wow." Wendy sighed, but Mabel was quizzical. "I was watching him completely freak out earlier. Said that he didn't want to think about the accident anymore, but he was really high and couldn't control himself and smacked himself in the face. Hurt his knuckles too." Wendy inspected her ghost hand. "Like, I get what happened to him. I saw the accident from his side tonight. It was really scary. But... seeing him babbling and hurting himself like that was really unsettling."

Wendy wished she could fess up, and tell Mabel that she didn't want to do this anymore. The person she was following and protecting was not the friend she had come to know and love, but a complete bastardization. The drugs warped his natural skepticism into a paranoid mistrust of others and himself that he fought back with lie after painful lie. He had gone one step short of theft to continue running away from his memories. Truthfully, Wendy wasn't sure which action's possible consequences would be worse, but Dipper was making her angry and vindictive and scared; If he was truly alone in the world, with no one on his side, she knew she would have finally abandoned him now. But Mabel, and the promise, and those tiny glimpses that proved that the true Dipper was still alive compelled her to stay.

She wished she could have told all of that to Mabel, who was sitting next to Dipper, repositioning his body to a safety position and keeping tabs on his pulse. She wanted to say it all if only to get it off her chest, but Mabel was already burdened enough as it was just trying to control her twin, and Wendy guessed that an appeal of wanting to quit wasn't going to be helpful. That, and the thought of wanting to abandon Dipper had been starting to make her feel guilty, the longer she watched him, fast asleep.

Throughout the night, Wendy and Mabel tried making small talk while they waited for the sun to show up. Simple things, really: what Piedmont was like, retellings of funny videos, Woodstick, Waddles, and so forth. Eventually, the morning sun finally broke through the trees, the yellow and orange glow easily reaching the bungalow.

"I think it's time to try waking him up. Whaddya say, Mabes?"

Mabel didn't say anything. Instead, she crawled over to her sleeping brother, kneeled in close and took a huge breath before belting out her pent up fury.

"Okay, rise and shine, Dipper!. Get your _butt_ awake right now because you are in SO MUCH TROUBLE, MISTER."

Wendy was taken aback by this yelling. Dipper only heard his sister's shouting at him just enough to start squirming about on the hideout's floor. Mabel grabbed her brother by his shirt and began to shake him violently, "C'MON, RISE AND SHINE." She let a hand pull back and smack Dipper across the face. The sting registered and Dipper's eyes snapped open.

"Muh-Mabel?!" Dipper's eyes had a hard time focusing on his sister, which Wendy correctly assumed, just enraged Mabel further, right into giving him another slap. He stared at Mabel as though she had two heads; Wendy wasn't shocked at the idea that it might have been the case from his perspective.

"How could you do this?!" Mabel snatched up a cough syrup bottle and shoved it in Dipper's face.

"I... Wait, how did you find this place?" Drool leaked past Dipper's lower lip.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?!"

Mabel prepared to give a third slap, but looked up at Wendy's ghost just long enough to see that she was shaking her head no desperately and gesturing with her own hands to stop, and Mabel desisted, although still gave her brother an icy death stare. Dipper had been startled by this wake-up call, and was forcing his sluggish brain to piece together just what was going on. He reached up to his mouth to wipe away the dribble on his chin.

"I don't... I don't understand." he pathetically whimpered out.

"Do you remember what happened here last night?"

Dipper thought, then sighed. "I... kinda do." He squirmed, wanting to escape his body and not have this conversation.

"Aaaand...?"

"I vomited." Dipper darted his gaze down and away. "I had too much. A-again." He glanced up and back down, noting that by Mabel's death stare it was the wrong answer. "I'm sorry!" No change. "Mabel, I don't know what you want to hear! How did you find this place? Did you follow me?!" Dipper's paranoia began to show and he nervously bit down on his bandaged knuckles.

"I didn't follow you. Please calm down, bro." She reached over to pull Dipper's fist away from his teeth. "Stop biting yourself, you'll get an infection."

"Mabel, there's no way you could have known about this place unless you followed me!" Dipper's logic was broken and colored by the chemicals still pulsing through his body. "If you did then why the hell didn't you stop Robbie? He started it! Unless you two are... Mabel, just what the hell are you doing hanging around that asshole?!"

"Dipper, what are you talking about? You're not making any sense!" Anger was being replaced by bewilderment.

"You were talking to someone while I was passed out!" Dipper babbled. "I heard you talking. Only Robbie knows of this place. Oh God, please don't tell me you guys are a thing now!"

"No, I..."

"Mabel, tell the truth!"

Her eyes darted between Dipper and Wendy. To Dipper she was just looking at some branch. To Wendy, she was holding back until time ran out. "W-Wendy!"

"...Wendy?"

"She showed me back in..." Mabel thought, then, much to Wendy's horror, told the full, uncensored truth. "This morning. Her ghost showed me this morning."

Dipper looked at his sister, eyes wide, running what he had heard over and over again through his mind before tucking his chin to his chest and placing both hands on his scalp. "She didn't. You want me to go insane. I'm already too broken from everything that happened and you want to finish the job and..." Dipper paused, letting that tiny, rational part of him speak. "No... no you don't. You don't want me to go insane... but I-I don't think..."

Wendy took her chance at Dipper's speechlessness and moved up right to Mabel's ear. "Maybe now's not a good time to tell him about me. Just deal with the whole drug thing right now. Maybe later today you guys can, you know, have this talk, but he's about ready to crack."

Mabel nodded and took this order to change the subject. "Hey, bro, it's okay." She had repositioned herself next to her derelict brother and wrapped an arm around him. "We don't have to talk about her now if you don't want to."

Dipper looked at his sister's eyes knowingly, his own sunken even further in ever darkening circles. "What are we going to talk about instead?"

"Well," Mabel looked around. "This."

"The--" Dipper's tongue flicked around uselessly, not wanting to vocalize these next few words, but corralled it in anyway. "The drug problem, right?"

Mabel nodded. Wendy almost felt relieved that Dipper was, at the very least, self-aware enough to notice there being a serious problem; a veritable first step in some positive direction. Dipper continued to flick his tongue around his mouth, then spat out more choked out words that turned the relief Wendy's spirit had felt into sheer annoyance.

"Well, I don't want to."

"Why not?" Mabel and Wendy asked in unison, one concerned, another confounded.

"I'm not ready yet, Mabel. I mean, I am aware that there's something seriously wrong, but I don't feel comfortable talking about it. B-but look." Dipper considered his words carefully. "I want to promise you that this is going to be the very last time I'm gonna do any of this."

"Mabel, be careful." Wendy warned. "A lot of-" Dammit, now she was fighting her tongue. "addicts promise this, but they can fall back at any time. Trust me, I've had to deal with Robbie quitting smoking at least five times. He almost had it the last time, but he had a really rough day being mistaken for some criminal by the police and decided 'Well fuck that noise' and... look, don't trust Dipper to keep this promise!"

"Dipper," Mabel started. She took in Wendy's advice, chewed it over in her mind. "Do you seriously promise?"

"Yes. Truth be told Mabel, I'm getting tired of this myself."

"Well, in that case I'm gonna trust you and trust that you'll get rid of all of this soon."

"...Really? Why?" This time, Dipper and Wendy asked this simultaneously; the former in confusion, the latter in vexation.

"Because you're my brother, silly." Mabel smiled. "You're sensible and I can rely on you to make the right choice."

"Th-thanks." Dipper blushed and let himself sway a little as he relaxed his muscles.

Mabel reached into her bag and pulled out a candy bar. "No problem. Now, will you eat this? You must be starving by now."

Dipper took the candy bar and studied it in his trembling hands before pulling off the wrapper and taking a tentative bite; he hadn't realized just how hungry he had been, and wondered aloud if the pain in his stomach was really more hunger pang than nausea. His second bite had more resolve. Wendy took this time to pull up next to Mabel.

"Okay, Mabel. Normally I trust what you're doing, but seriously. What are you doing? I mean, every day I lose more and more faith that Dipper somehow won't fuck up. How are you still trusting him like this?"

"Because he needs to be trusted." Mabel mouthed, voice nothing more than wind. "How'd you feel if you were trusted by no one?"

Wendy thought, then sighed. "Just be sure you know what you're getting yourself into, man."

Silence reigned between the three in the woods for the longest time. Dipper, at least on the outside, had been soothed enough to eventually allow Mabel to look at his knuckles and give proper first aid on the inflamed wound. Wendy couldn't feel surprised if inside Dipper was overflowing with paranoid energy and would suddenly act out. But as the syrup continued to clear itself out, it seemed, so did the paranoia. Mabel handed her brother more food and water from her bag, though he ended up declining all but the water, and only then drank about half a bottle before doubling over as his stomach screamed back to life.

"My stomach hurts..." Dipper groaned. "Like, really hurts."

"Are you gonna--"

"No. No, it doesn't feel like that."

Dipper closed his eyes and breathed deeply to distract himself from the pain, growing further listless until the pangs reached their zenith and waned. Mabel and Wendy waited patiently, silently, until he sat back up to tear into several more candy bars and the rest of his water. He must had begun to truly understand just how much he was starving. Once he felt satiated, he and Mabel took their leave. When the twins reached terra firma, Mabel turned right to her twin, who had stumbled over while taking his first few steps, not yet entirely sober.

"You do remember what Mom and Dad told me to do if I found you like that again?" Mabel finally asked.

"...Do you really want to tell them what happened?" Dipper looked with pleading eyes, but his sister was stronger than that.

"I have to. Sorta promised them I would."

Dipper took this in. Wendy thought that he'd start putting up a fight, but he looked down, ashamed, and uttered a defeated drone. "Okay. But just, at least, ask them to talk to me in the evening or something. I want to think things through."

Mabel nodded in agreement, and they began their trek home. Wendy zoomed ahead of them to get into the secure sanctuary that was the Shack; She realized just how long she had been outside helping Mabel monitor Dipper, and God knows how many Gravekeepers were stalking her at that point. Once she entered the Shack, she looked at the clock: 8:15. Stan was up, looking annoyed and giving off every signal that he knew the twins were gone.

When they arrived, he stood up, first to make remarks over the peculiar bruise on his grand nephew's face and the bandages on Dipper's knuckles, then to begin a harsh line of questioning towards him. Mabel jumped between them, simply stating to their Grunkle that she would be dealing with her brother soon via a phone call. Stan let the subject drop in dead silence, as though he knew what that meant, then ordered them to hustle so they could get to their posts before the first tour started. Dipper watched his sister make the call once they had reached the attic, not enjoying it but forcing himself through the torture anyway. He was ready for when the phone would be given to him, but it never was. Mabel hung up and heaved a deep sigh.

"Mom said she and Dad'll call your phone when he gets home from work. Though, she wanted me to tell you now that she's very disappointed."

Dipper shrugged. "I figured. Kinda let them down big-time with this one." Dipper bit his lip. "Do you think they might want me to go back home?"

Mabel's lack of an answer was answer enough. Dipper peeled off his shirt and put on a fresh one, then did the same for his jeans. He didn't care that his sister was in the same room when he did this; Wendy was left to guess that something deep in his mind had burnt out and just didn't care for the time being, at the very least.

He'd foregone his promise of keeping his face clean, and without the shower it was left in a greasy state as he entered the gift shop to begin work, mainly hanging around Soos and learning how to shoddily repair the golf cart. Wendy could sense Dipper's growing urge to bite hitting a crescendo once the topic of brakes was brought up. Soos apparently did too, and kept it short and to the point before moving on to the steering wheel.

But Wendy could see the look in Dipper's eyes. He was desperate, cornered, scared about the future, and angry at the present and past. It was a look of feeling trapped, and the inclination to snap was rising to an undeniable fever. Maybe it was just his body despairing over the abuse it had recently endured, or, worse, aching for more. Wendy guessed it had to be some perverted combination of the two.

Then, a thought punched Wendy in the gut with even more ferocity than the one she had endured in the bar years before, and winded her just as bad. If Dipper had to return home, in this mangled state, his time would run out.

He needed her now.

Her time to save him was quickly running out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fragile in a dream


	22. I don't wanna die in here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what better than picking a name based on one you've heard in a song? Picking a name that you've heard from multiple songs from multiple artists.

Wendy wasn't sure what compelled Dipper to plop himself in front of the TV while he was on break, let alone the local channel, during news hour, but she had a theory; the phone call he was expecting in 4 or 5 hours was peeking over the horizon like a kidnapper, readying itself to take him back south to Piedmont. It made no sense, considering he didn't even want to be here, but then again, Dipper reasoning skills were a shadow of what they once were, either subdued or decimated from the ever heavying drug use, and logic was thus thrown out the window.

Whatever the case, Wendy sat on the floor in front of the chair Dipper sat in, both blithely watching the news. The big news being of the intense heat wave that was to come right as Woodstick was scheduled to begin. A spokesperson for the Gravity Falls mayor popped up, urging citizens to consume water and take other precautions, as well as an appeal to Woodstick to not price gouge water during what was going to be, as the spokesperson put it, 'the worst heat wave in well over a decade'.

"They're gonna price gouge." Dipper sighed to himself. "I can feel it..."

The second piece surprised Dipper out of his nervous boredom. "Police have completed their investigation of a supposed break-in of the Corduroy cabin that occurred sometime over the weekend. Sometime when the residents were out on a camping trip last weekend, the cabin had been broken into, but according to the police, the perpetrator or perpetrators did not steal anything. In fact, according to the investigation, there is zero evidence of there being a break-in."

Dipper had sighed, along with Wendy; both had heard this part before, but as the story continued, Wendy realized just how much woeful ignorance Dipper had forced on himself.

"Police would have otherwise brushed this off had Dan Corduroy not been in an absolute rage and, more recently, hysteria, over the cleaning up and out of his late daugher's room, which he says had been rarely entered in since the fatal accident that took her over a year ago."

Dipper frowned, and instinctively felt for a flask that he soon realized was absent. "Dammit." Wendy wasn't sure if he could hear himself, but he sounded sickeningly desperate.

"When police arrived, her belongings had been neatly arranged in boxes, and her father had found a note that he initially claimed was imitating his daughter's handwriting. An analysis of the note had been done, with the results being inconclusive. In the last several days, however, Dan has started to go public in claiming that the cabin had to have been visited by the ghost of his daughter, and that the handwriting was indeed hers. He has since been under psychiatric evaluation and released, with fresh grief being considered the culprit of this unusual claim. It's possible that no one will know what happened, though rest assured, this will be talked about for years to come."

Dipper was squirming uncomfortably in his seat on account of the info dump he had just been given. Wendy knew he had heard of the break-in by now, but maybe not of the exact details. To her, personally, the news of her Dad coming around to the possibility of her ghost wandering about was mixed; On one hand, it felt nice to have more than two living people believe in her post-mortem existence, but on the other her Dad had to look like a nut to the entire town.

"Hey Dipper!" Dipper and Wendy whipped around to Mabel, who'd been observing the last couple seconds in the doorway. "What's up?"

Dipper looked away, a peculiar cognitive dissonance in overdrive. "News just did a thing about the break-in. Dan's convinced that Wendy's ghost visited... I just don't want to believe it."

"Not believe a ghost? From Dipper "I Believe In Ghosts" Pines?" Mabel laughed. "Listen to yourself!"

"No, that's not what I mean. Ghosts exist, but Wendy's ghost... I-I," Dipper's agitation grew. "It's like the world wants me to suffer until I go ahead and do the ritual. But you know what Wendy's gonna say to me! It _is_ my fault, after all."

"Dipper, it never was your fault. Everyone's been telling you that since forever."

"I need to hear it from Wendy, though. But that's not gonna happen."

Wendy shouted, knowing full well if how effective this would be. "Dude, I forgive you!"

"...What if I helped you like I helped you visit the intersection?"

Dipper chewed this idea through, then shook his head. "No, Mabel. There's too many possibilities of what could happen. If it's just me, there'd only be two. Well, one, but..."

"Ah-ha! So you do think she may forgive you!"

"It's a very, very remote possibility..." Dipper admitted. "But I'm not sure if that's enough to convince me." He looked down. "Truth be told, Mabel, I-I kinda need to be shitfaced if there's any possibility of me to go through with it. But, you know, she'd be pissed if I did that." Dipper let out several chuckles and a sigh. "So I'm kinda stuck here."

"Dipper..." Mabel looked towards Wendy. "I'm sure you're right saying that she'd hate to see you like that. Though Wendy would likely appreciate it a lot if you were not only brave, but had faith in her."

"Oh, definitely." Wendy agreed.

"That and..." Mabel breathed. "And it sounded that when I called Mom that you don't have a lot of time left here." Mabel's voice began to plead.

"I kinda guessed that." Dipper swallowed. "But... but I don't feel ready."

"Dipper, you have to do it!"

Her brother bristled at the very commandment and crossed his arms in defiance. "What? No! I don't!"

"Dipper, do you _think_ that you can speak to Wendy's ghost in Piedmont?" Mabel waved her hands around. "No! It says so in your ghost journal! You have to do it here and you have to do it now!"

"Mabel, I-"

"Look at yourself! Look at what you've been reduced to! Dipper, if Mom and Dad make you leave, and you don't speak to Wendy, I'm afraid that you..." Now Mabel swallowed. "I'm afraid you may not have another chance."

Dipper and Wendy paused, the former in disbelief of what Mabel was suggesting.

"What are you sayi-"

"I'm saying I'm losing you! Dipper, I don't know how much longer you're going to last like this!"

"I know..." Dipper looked down with a whimper. "But it's like I'm trapped!"

"You're not! ...Wait here!"

Mabel darted out the room, and for the moment she was gone, Dipper and Wendy sat alone. Wendy feared that in the time it'd take for her to return that Dipper would make a run for it. Where to, she didn't know, but he could be resourceful under stress, logic or no logic. So it surprised her when Dipper made no movement other than uneasily shift himself in his seat. He was anxious, not sure of what or who Mabel was going to bring down, let alone of the fate his parents would have in store for him later that afternoon, but the first of the two was quelled when Mabel finally returned with a precious treasure in her arms. Dipper and Wendy took one look at the object and gaped.

"Mabel... this is Wendy's hat." He said as Mabel handed the object to him. "What... why are you giving this to me?"

"Dipper, this hat is a representation of our friend. The symbol of our friendship with Wendy that will last as long as it exists!"

"...Yeah?" Wendy honestly couldn't blame her friend for being skeptical at this blatant attempt of coercion, and neither could she blame Mabel for going this route.

"Dan was right in giving this hat to you. This is a part of Wendy."

"This... this isn't some kind of attempt to force me into the ritual?" Dipper mentally picked up on his sister's manipulation easily.

"I don't want to force you. I want you to think! She's our friend. Friendship is like the ultimate form of forgiveness!"

"I don't follow that lo-"

Mabel interrupted. "Don't you want to feel forgiven?"

Dipper reeled from one train of thought to another. "I really do, Mabel."

"And deep down, don't you really want to summon her?"

He thought. "Very much."

"As soon as possible?"

"I, uh... yeah. Tonight." Dipper's face twinged as that last word made its existence.

"Then wear the hat."

Dipper paled. "What? Her hat?!"

"Yes, her hat!"

"Why?!" Dipper grew further anxious.

"As a promise to me! If you wear the hat, Dipper, you agree that you'll come with me to the tree place tonight so we can summon Wendy and put all these bad feelings behind us."

Dipper analyzed the hat carefully while he thought out Mabel's request. One of the few good things, if they were to be called that, to come out of the accident was Wendy's hat being lost on that day. It retained its perfection, untainted by the blood and the memory. Dipper felt the animal fur as he rolled it between his fingers and petted it in his hands. He took a look inside and saw the piece of cloth stitched inside marked with an 'S'. Wendy noted his initial confusion before his face softened in remembrance. Finally, when he was done looking the hat over, he looked to Mabel.

"Wear the hat? Please? I'm sure she wouldn't mind you wearing it in the slightest." Wendy nodded her head and gave an invisible thumbs up for Dipper to go for it.

Dipper stared the hat down until, with quivering hands, nestled it firmly onto his head. Mabel and Wendy pumped up their fists in celebration, and Mabel went in to crush Dipper in a hug.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, _thank you_ , Dipper!"

Dipper made a smile and hugged his sister back lightly. "You're a good sister, Mabel."

He had forced it out, but it was still a sentiment Dipper truly harbored. But Wendy could see a certain look in his eyes. They had the appearance of a wild animal realizing they have been cornered, not sure whether to accept this fate or to start biting and gnawing at fate itself until he could make a break for it. Dipper ended the hug, mentioning that he wanted to get back to work a little early, and Mabel allowed him to do so. When she assumed Dipper was out of earshot, she turned to Wendy and celebrated.

"Did you hear that? He said yes! He's gonna do it! I'm so proud of him! Wendy, are you as psyched as I am?"

Wendy, despite her observations, was still riding high on Dipper's acceptance, and chirped out a victorious assertion.

"Dude, he's gonna be so happy when he sees me. Like, you think _I'm_ happy, but just wait until tonight, Mabel."

Mabel was on top of the world and dancing at the idea that, even as short as 24 hours time, she'd be seeing a whole new brother. Technically, the old version of her brother, but a version much more desired than the shambling, bony parody of a zombie that lumbered about. Wendy couldn't possibly toy with the notion of speaking up with her concerns, and so she let Mabel be unfettered in her joy, instead shouldering all her insecurities about irresponsibility alone.

Dipper tapped his fingers in a nervous energy all throughout the afternoon with a growing fervor. Being stationed at the cash register, he had no freedom to wander around and burn the tension emanating from the phone inside his pants pocket.

"After work for Dad..." Dipper thought aloud at one point. "Gets off at around... 4:30? Means he gets home at around 5." He glanced up at the clock. "Well then, two more hours until I'm toast, it looks like."

Fingers continued to drum with an increasingly schizophrenic sense of rhythm until it hit a crescendo and two hands smacked the edge of the counter that signaled just how little more could be taken.

"Dude, you doin' okay? You've been really tense all day." Soos had looked up from his task in concern.

Dipper sighed. "Not really, Soos. May have to go home sooner than anticipated."

Soos, in turn, frowned. "Really? What happened, dude?"

"Personal matters." Dipper quickly answered. "Really, it's probably better to ask Mabel once I leave. Sh-she'd explain it much better, I'd think."

"Huh. And usually you are the one good at explaining things."

Dipper simply nodded, and nodded again when Soos mentioned having to leave for the hardware store to pick up some screws. The radio silence unnerved Soos just a little, but shrugged it off and moved along with his task. Meanwhile, Dipper started back up the tiny beating he was giving to the aged counter, the tension running too high to try and keep bottled up for himself. He continued this action even when the customers from the latest tour surged in and dripped out, earning himself a small reprimand from his Grunkle to cut it out. It was a command that lasted as long as Stan remained in the shop before hustling to get the last tour of the day started, at which point the drumming began once more, and was joined by picking at the dressings over his knuckles.

Wendy could sense in her earthly friend the irresistible urge to flee building towards an insanity-inducing level. Dipper kept trying to reach for a flask that wasn't there, and moan an obscenity every time he failed to find it. It was that smoking gun clue of just how bad he was jonesing for even a drop of liquid relaxation. Wendy dragged a hand down her tired face; Dipper really was an alcoholic at this point. Robbie was right.

Dipper was rattled out of his head after the last tour, when the gift shop door opened in a manner unusual to him. He was at once ready to read the refund policy to a customer, but stopped, let himself process who was in the door, and give a proper name.

"Jenny? What...?" He rose from his post, and swung himself around the counter. Jenny, the dark brunette girl in question, met Dipper with arms stretched out to the sky, but they failed to embrace.

"We're here for..." She faltered. "Oh Jesus, your face!"

Dipper rubbed at the long, tender bruise. "I know. D-don't ask..."

"Uh... well, anyway, we're ready for Woodstick!"

Dipper crinkled his nose just the slightest. "But that's not until tomorrow."

"We know, you doofus. Tim and the guys wanted to have some fun before tomorrow!"

"Oh! Well... uh..."

"You're invited too. What? Tim doesn't hate you that much!" Jenny gave a playful push, and Dipper blushed for a fraction of a second, voice flagging. Wendy chuckled; looked like at least some small part found the strength to move on.

"That's, uh, quite an honor coming from Tim of all people."

Jenny shrugged. "Take what you can get. So c'mon, let's go!"

Dipper's eyes went wide. "What? Now?"

"Yeah, now!"

"But I kinda dug myself deep this morning and now my parents are going to be calling any second." Dipper gulped and looked down. "Might have to go back to Piedmont."

"Shit, really? Back to bedroom jail? What happened?"

He sighed. "Found passed out on whiskey and dex. You know, a lot like the time that got me hooked up with Harrison?"

A sympathetic hand was placed on Dipper's shoulder. "Jesus, man, I'm sorry to hear that."

Dipper continued staring at the counter. "I don't even want to think about what they're going to do to me. It's making me so on edge."

"Is it really going to be any worse than being holed in your room all the time?"

"At best, I'll be Dad's slave and prisoner until I'm eighteen. At worst, probably sent off to one of those troubled youth nature walks." Dipper half-snickered and shrugged. "Nah, maybe not that, but, you know..."

"Oh God, one of _those_. My parents threatened me with one of those too." Jenny scoffed at the memory. "Why do you think I live with Tim now?"

A dry grin crept up the left of Dipper's lip. "I thought you lived with that giant 'roid maniac because you actually like him!"

He was met with a playful slap on the face, and the two laughed, and while Dipper was still two steps away from panic, at the very least he had been given a moment to surface for air.

"God, Dipper, shut up!" Jenny laughed. "He's a great guy when you really get to know him."

"Whatever you say." Dipper rolled his eyes.

"So yeah! You coming or not?"

"Well, I'll be honest... it does sound tempting. It really is." 

Dipper looked at the clock on the wall and it read a personally sickening 5:07, and as though fate turned malicious, he felt a sudden vibration in his pants pocket. He pulled his phone out and he and Wendy read the caller ID: Mom & Dad. Converging into Dipper's waking nightmare but simultaneously towards Wendy's relief was Mabel coming in from another room with a box full of gift shop products needing restocking. Mabel stopped as she noticed Jenny, and dropped the box at her feet, not out of anger, but anxiety.

"Dipper, what is she doing here?"

Dipper was too engrossed with the inner turmoil his phone's screen was causing him to suffer through. Wendy took her chance with the silence she was offered.

"Dude's gonna run for it, Mabel. Get Stan or Soos out here now. Please, you gotta do som-"

"You know what?" Dipper swiped at the touchscreen and rejected the call. "Let's go. Forget packing, I just want to get out of here."

Jenny slapped Dipper on the back. "Awesome! I'll give you a moment to clear things up with your sister. We'll be waiting in the van."

"Sure thing!"

"No!" Mabel grasped tightly at Dipper's arm and wagged an accusatory finger at Jenny. "He's not going with you cretins! He's staying right here!"

"No I'm not, Mabel!" Dipper wrestled his arm out of his sister's grip. "I'm going with them. I want to go have some fun, alright?"

"Can't you just stay here and have fun with me and Grunkle Stan instead? It'll be good ol' wholesome fun, Dip!"

Annoyance and anger sizzled forth. "Mabel, I've made my choice already."

"Well, your choice is wrong!"

Dipper sneered and was downright offended. "What? Who are you to say my choice is wrong?!"

The phone vibrated again, though Dipper's reaction time in turning down the callers was lightning fast. There was such a level of stubbornness in Dipper that made Wendy feel ill and exasperated. He was losing his already tenuous sense of listening at a rapid clip, if it hadn't been snuffed out yet, and was increasingly acting more and more like a child on top of that. 

"It's because you want to avoid Mom and Dad, is that it?"

A growl. "Okay, yes, fine, you got me! I don't want to talk to them! Congratulations, you figured it out!"

"Why, Dipper?"

"Do I have to give a damn reason?! And in any case, Tim's gonna be pissed if I stay here yammering too long!"

"No, Dipper, don't go with them!" Mabel pleaded right as Dipper's phone came to life a third time. "They're not your friends!"

This turned Dipper's disposition further sour. "Mabel, you literally don't know any of them. They're mostly alright."

"They're a bad influence! Dipper, please!"

"No, Mabel. I'm done." Dipper grabbed his phone and slammed it onto the counter. "I'm done with this. I don't feel like some broken person with them. They get me and don't expect me to be happy all the time." He stormed towards the exit and opened the door. "I'm going with them and that's that! Tell Mom and Dad that I ran off, I don't care! I just need a couple of days to just fuck off, alright?!"

Dipper was halfway to the van when Mabel called out. "Dip, where're you going?"

Dipper turned around. "I don't fucking care! I just want to not think for once!"

"But what about Wendy?!" Incredulous blinking. A cover blown. "You want to avoid her even more than our parents, right?"

"I-"

"Well, let me tell you something, mister! Her spirit is right here with us right now!"

Wendy knew she'd gone some level of pale beyond what her spectre had. "Mabel, what the hell are you doing?"

"She'd been watching over your butt the past several weeks, Dipper!" Mabel closed in on her brother. "She's been trying to get you to notice her presence and figure out that she isn't here to mess with your head. All she wants to do is talk to you!"

"No, Mabel!" Dipper was ready to blow. "She's not here, and she sure as hell doesn't want to talk to me! All you've been doing since I got here has been to make me feel like I _have_ to do that. You don't know what really happened that day. You weren't _there_! I'd rather not make myself any worse than I already am by invoking Wendy's wrath!"

"Dipper, you've done nothing to help yourself! Zero! Nada! The only thing you have done is act like an idio-"

Past bites at his twin sister looked like mere nibbles when a fierce, bandaged fist connected squarely in the center of Mabel's face twice. She stumbled backwards and fell onto her backside, holding her nose with both hands. Wendy could not believe what she had just witnessed, but it was true and it made her wrathful. Dipper stood there, the fright and rage that had been built and pent up from the day had finally erupted with his dead friend's hat planted firmly on his head. There was little remorse from Dipper, wild-eyed and preparing for a hard, brutal attack once Mabel got back to her feet, had the van behind him not interrupted with several, impatient honks.

"We're gonna leave without you if you don't hurry the hell up!" The husky voice sounded familiar to Wendy.

Dipper said nothing more, and made a brisk run to the open door of the van, having it close behind him after the gray van had started off into the distance. Wendy zoomed toward Mabel, who was staggering back up, hands still over her nose.

"Oh God, Mabel! Are you alright?!"

Mabel seemed to outright deny the nosebleed then and there, waving her arms in a panic. "Wendy! Something in him snapped! You have to go after him!"

"Dude, after what he did to you?! Fuck no!" Wendy spat out. She couldn't contain the vitriol for this corruption any longer. "I'm sorry, but I can't keep this up anymore! Dipper's been acting like a total dickwad, and all he's been doing is lie and run away every chance he gets! I'm tired of this, Mabel! I'm not dealing with Dipper anymore."

Mabel's look of shock was quickly erased by desperate sadness. "Please! You have to!"

"I don't have to!" Wendy shouted.

"But Wendy, I don't want to lose him!"

Wendy lurched back from that powerful statement as she watched Mabel let loose several tears. They were like punches straight to the heart. Wendy understood what these tears were for. Desperation from helplessly watching a loved one slip away. Wendy remembered her own for her Mom with a powerful intensity. Mabel was going to do anything to reverse his track back to the happy and healthy norm he had once had. It wasn't about what Wendy wanted at the moment, but what Mabel needed for the long-term. Mabel needed her to save Dipper. Burning emotions were swallowed down harshly.

"Please, go after him!"

Wendy's face took on a serious determination that was, in spite of her revelation, a challenge to conjure, and she slowly nodded. "Alright, Mabel. I got it."

Wendy then took off down the road as she was ordered. This was for Mabel's sake. Wendy's desired sake, to just step away, forget this gnarled up, juvenile pine and leave him to the elements, had to be compressed into a tiny corner in as much of the back of her mind as she could. Warring emotions could clamor all they desired, but, logically, the mission had to be completed. Dipper needed saving, and the people he whisked himself towards certainly weren't going to help achieve that end in the least.

He needed a real friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> President of the fan club up there choking on his tears.


	23. The Sky Went Off-White

Wendy sailed down the road quickly and caught up with the dark gray sports van effortlessly. The people within were still in commotion of just having picked up the last member of their party and wanting to make up for the lost minutes spent when Dipper had argued with his twin.

"About time you got your ass in here!" Wendy noticed it was the same voice, the driver of the van.

"Shut up, Tim!" Dipper growled. "Mabel wouldn't let me go."

"You mean your sister? God, Dipshit, y-"

"Hey, man!" Dipper started, still wound up from his last fight. "You don't call me that, alright?"

"Guys, guys, guys!" Two arms rose up from the passenger seat, along with Jenny's voice. "Just shut up! Tim, don't call Dipper a dipshit! Dipsh- I mean, Dipper, chill!"

Tim and Dipper went silent, but still glared daggers at each other from the rear view mirror.

"...Well then. Guessing you two are those 'strangle each other's throats' type of friends." Wendy grimaced, her curt words only heard by herself. "Good to know."

The van was quieted for another moment until a third, meek voice, spoke up. "How's it going, Dipper? You look pretty beat up."

"Ugh..." Dipper moaned. "It's been pretty terrible, Keith. Things are falling apart. Mabel caught me passed out last night, somehow. Like, I know a place in the woods where I can just chill out in peace, but when I woke up this morning there she was! Then it's like everything fell apart from there."

Dipper braved to look outside of the van for a fleeting moment before Wendy recognized that inkling of a panic attack threatening to surge forth before he buried his face into his hands. Wendy glanced outside herself out of curiosity and watched as the intersection where her life ended trundle by. It took her friend up to where he was certain the van was speeding down the highway before he carefully uncovered his eyes and sighed.

"You guys don't happen to have any liquor or something in here? Everything just needs to fuck off for a while."

"There should be some in that duffel bag." Jenny pointed out. "But, please, don't pop your head up like last time! Especially not when we're passing by a cop car!"

"Last time?" Wendy asked. "Cop car? Dipper, what the hell?"

Dipper leaned over to the bag and poked through the contents, choosing a small bottle of liquor to suck dry. Once done, he hid the bottle back inside and leaned against the window, idly watching the lines painted on the road as they merged, split, and wobbled along, and let the drink work like medicine. He took off Wendy's hat, and hugged it to his chest like a cherished toy, unwilling to let it go, and was inattentive to the conversation his friends were having, simply taking his time to unwind before getting himself into anything more.

Wendy wasn't sure of what to make of Dipper's friends in the half hour she listened to them. The only one in the van she felt she could potentially trust and like had to be Keith, the tiny, strawberry blonde who strangely enough was the only other person in this group aside from Dipper to not necessarily belong, had he not been Joey's younger brother. It was a shock to remember that this boy had unwittingly led Dipper down such a bleak path in the first place. Tim was a dick, plain and simple, and by Joey's ribbing, Wendy guessed that 'Timebomb Tim' wasn't so much a nickname as it was a dire warning. His long locks of brown hair strung down past a T-shirt he got from what had to be a death metal concert. Joey himself didn't seem violent. Then again, he also seemed high out of his mind. If his gut and long, blonde hair and large bag of chips didn't give this away, the unlit joint he kept playing with under his lap sure did. Wendy wasn't sure of Jenny, with her ruddy tan and very dark brown hair, but listening in gave her the insight that she and Tim were a thing, and that she was running away from home to the wastelands of north Nevada to live with Tim and a couple of his friends.

"So Dipper!" Joey slapped a hand on Dipper's back. "Man, I thought we'd never hear from you again, man!"

"You guys know where I live." Dipper calmly mumbled. "Was just shipped off here by my parents for the summer. They thought it'd be good for me."

"Your parents suck." Tim growled. "I mean, what the hell? They took away your phone because they hate us. Probably Joey's fault, though!"

"Hey, Tim..." Jenny cooed. "Joey gets us good stuff. Who cares if he's high all the time?"

"I do! What if I get pulled over?! We're all fucked!"

"Woah, we're not getting pulled over. So long as we keep it cool, we'll be fine."

"Yeah." Dipper let a sloppy grin plaster across his face. "If anything, Tim needs to stop driving like a maniac."

The van went into an uproar at Tim's expense. Tim gripped the steering wheel and his knuckles turned white, and when he failed to fully channel his rage through it, he slammed his seat backwards, causing Dipper to jump and the remaining passengers to boo at the aggression, Wendy included.

"Jesus Christ, Tim, calm down!" Jenny giggled. "Dipper's here and he's starting to chill out and have fun!"

Tim simply growled some obscenities, and Dipper smiled at besting the goliath. He glanced over to Keith, and he looked right back at Dipper. Keith's eyes traveled down to the object Dipper held in his arms.

"Hey, I've been meaning to tell you your hat's cool." Keith smiled.

"Uh," Dipper was taken aback momentarily. "Thanks, Keith."

"Yeah! Looks really good on you!" Jenny turned in her seat to speak directly, "Meant to tell you back at your place but, you know, no time."

Joey eyed the hat; It was apparent to Wendy that he had only just seen it. "Oh, wow! Is that actual fur?"

The hat was inspected. "To the best of my knowledge, it is."

"Man!" Joey was mesmerized. "Where'd you get it?"

"I-it..." Dipper longingly stared into the fur of the hat, and placed a protective hand over the spot Joey's greasy fingers were hovering above. "It was my friend's."

"You mean the friend that... you know... passed?" Keith winced.

"Yeah." Dipper nodded. "Yeah. And I don't think she'd like it very much to have greasy, oily, disgusting fingers touching it."

"Oh, why?" Tim huffed. "Is she going to get pissed at you? Afraid that your dead girlfriend's gonna wake you up tonight and scream at you for letting such a thing happen? I thought you told us you left that thing behind last summer anyway because you felt guilty that you killed her or some shit! So why do you still have it if you're so damn uncomfortable just holding it?"

Dipper let the waves crash against him and forced himself to hold his ground. "I...I promised Mabel I'd do something with her. The hat was meant to seal the, um, deal, but, uh... it didn't hold."

"Oh wow. What deal would that be?" Tim went sardonic. "Gonna conjure up some satanic ritual to bring your dead girlfriend back to life or some shit? Please..."

Dipper rolled his eyes, yet kept his mouth shut. Probably for the best, Wendy had thought. Going any further in that topic would have painted her friend as crazy to these people. The alcohol began to flow thickly in Dipper's veins and he soon settled himself in for a much desired nap whilst continuing to clutch Wendy's old hat. He didn't appear to hear his friends spouting on about having some Joey-fuelled fun at the motel, and absent-mindedly uttered his approval at being included. Wendy had nearly missed it, with Dipper's voice so quiet and mumbled, but it made her dread just how she was supposed to keep him safe with three or four ill-chosen friends in the same room with God-knows-what substances. Maybe she could work under the cloak of of the highs and hope for it to give her actions sufficient deniability in the morning. Any and all logistics would be Wendy making them up as she went, she presumed.

Wendy didn't expect what had came next. She felt her ethereal form hit something that shook her with sharp pain. Something in her reeling vision sped into a horizon, turning down rightward, until it vanished between the trees. Her mind cleared, and Wendy was left floating in the middle of a highway road, meters away from an off-ramp barely visible from thick layers of white fog.

"Wait, what the hell?" Wendy attempted to charge forward, but the same shock stunned her again. She tried again with the same effect. A fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh try yielded the same thing. Wendy turned around, but failed to see the van. Her intestines twisted as the reality revealed its ugly face; In all her life, she'd never gone down that off-ramp. It was beyond her experience, her range, and as a ghost she was being denied to go any further down that path.

"Uuugh! You can't be serious! I can't even follow Dipper anymore? This is bullshit! I'm not putting up with it!"

Wendy soared upward, wishing blindly that she could find a workaround route to catch up with the gray vehicle, but as she cleared the trees she could only see an endless ocean of white mist cloud in nearly all directions, save for the way she had came. The road completely fell out of view and into this void, as though it had approached the end of a flat, finite world. Wendy crept downward and hung just above the road, despondent and fearful. There really was no way to get to Dipper now.

Wendy turned away from the white fog and meandered down the road for twenty or thirty yards, turned around, and charged shoulder-first into the mist, hoping against hope that she'd be able to break the barrier down this way. The fiery hot pain that engulfed half of her body when she collided was beyond overwhelming, and Wendy gritted her teeth and screwed her eyes shut due to this unexpected, impossible sensation of feeling her nerves explode in agonizing activity.

When the pain hit its crescendo and started working its way back down, Wendy ventured to open her eyes to the fog. She punched the thinnest film of a barrier with both fists, banging at the border between her world and the unknown, futily shouting out to an uncaring higher power to let her pass through.

"Please! I gotta go after him! He's my friend! I gotta help him! He's really going insane! Please! Please, you fucking idiot! PLEASE!"

Wendy punched and clawed and shouted until her ghost body was oddly worn out. She had sunk slowly downward in her attack as it grew weaker, and by the time she had finally ceased, the orange sun was commencing its descent. Wendy looked into the faded white, great beyond, unsure of how to proceed now that Dipper was out of her grasp. Would Mabel even believe her that she couldn't go any further in following him, especially after seeing just how stubborn she was in wanting to leave Dipper on his own in the first place?

At first she thought she'd gone crazy, but two pairs of pupiled orbs stared right back at her. They were much different than the ones Wendy came to fear in these past few weeks. These eyes were kinder. Compassionate. Concerned. Wendy could hear an alien language coming from these two beings, if they were even beings to start off. It was a soft tongue, directed at her, and Wendy was absolutely mesmerized with trying to decode this message. It was a gentle coaxing that was coming from the other side of this wall; They wanted her to come over and join them.

"Who are you?"

The eyes piqued with a hopeful curiosity, yet just as abruptly as these twins appeared, these eyes and voices faded off. Wendy searched frantically through the thick fog for any one of these two, but it was clear that they had vanished back into their ether forever, leaving only a memory and a sudden blast of chilly air behind. The air set off an alarm in Wendy's brain. It was only now that she felt utterly exposed on this open road she was hovering on. She sailed backwards, looking about in every perceivable direction for any yellow glint that may have been obscured by the foliage.

"Oh no. Oh no. Oh... no..."

Wendy's worst nightmare came to be. She spotted that muscular predator just off the side of the road. Its sickening grin was amplified by a pair of unholy wings puffing out and leg muscles tensing for its attack run. Wendy strafed leftward of this monster, keeping a large radius between them so as to make herself an exit strategy to flee on. A car passed between them, the passengers completely unaware of the paranormal standoff that was going down. 

Wendy glanced down the road for the briefest fraction of a second, into the fog. Twin headlights were barreling straight for her lane, and Wendy took a chance. She stopped in her tracks, keeping the Gravekeeper in her peripheral vision while the lights broke from the barrier and the speeding coupe came into view. The very instant Wendy knew she was inside the vehicle, she let her psychic powers grab onto this bolt of lightning and safely drag her off into wherever direction the driver had in mind. Wendy popped her head out and checked on the Gravekeeper, and smiled, satisfied as, even with its powerful wings flapping hard, it fell behind and disappeared into the distance. If Dipper wasn't coming home tonight, safe and sound, at least Wendy would.

It took much longer than anticipated before Wendy hovered exhaustedly towards the Mystery Shack. Not wanting another Gravekeeper confrontation, she had to unwillingly play several hours of ghost carpool before the right car made the right exit back into town, and by the time that happened it was already very late. Wendy spotted Mabel at the kitchen table with Soos and Stan. A clock made it clear it was well after 11 at night. The fact that Soos was still sticking around at this time was astounding, even when Wendy considered the circumstances.

They had two phones at the center of the table, one of which in use and on speakerphone, and the other being Dipper's abandoned phone. They were trying to formulate a plan with what Wendy guessed was the twins' parents, given the despondence from both sides, and the choked crying from a land far away.

"We failed him! We failed him and we're bad parents! I should have never said we were disappointed in him!" 

"Mom, no. You're a super parent! You and Dad are awesome! Dipper just had too much on his mind, and, truth be told, I was kinda pushing him too hard."

"Look, I don't think it's anyone's fault kid's gone crazy." Stan spoke up with an authoritative tone that secretly begged everyone to point the blame to him, "But we gotta find him and make sure he comes home safe. Mabel gave us the bright idea to search Woodstick tomorrow. Thing's practically a magnet for young people."

"What about tonight, though?" That embroiled voice had to be Mr. Pines, their father. "Can we find him tonight before the lowlives he calls his friends leave him passed out on the street like last time?"

Wendy's chest felt unusually stiller than what she had gotten used to. "Wait, they did _that_?" Her disbelief caught the attention of Mabel, with the way she glanced up at her, surprised she was here, but kept herself quiet.

"We've already called the cops and the county cops. Came over and we gave them a photo of what he looks like, but it doesn't look like they'll really start looking for him until tomorrow. And none of the inns or motels we called have seen him. Then again, I probably shouldn't have yelled at them so much."

Everybody heard the incensed growl on the other line. "Christ... Well, I guess let's hope they don't leave him in a ditch this time!"

Mabel quietly uttered that she had to excuse herself at this point, and hurried her way to Wendy, who herself was leading Mabel over the the bathroom. The ethereal spirit shut the door behind her, and turned to a disbelieving older twin.

"Wendy, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be with Dipper!" It hurt hearing Mabel's voice tinged with anger.

"I know." Wendy pulled a shaky hand through her hair. "But something really weird happened when I was in the van with him. Like, I think I might have hit some boundary and the van just went off without me. I... I dunno. I think since I never went down that way..."

"Wendy, I still remember what you said earlier. About not wanting to help anymore. Did you just pretend to go after-"

"No!" Wendy ran hand through her hair, taking in her own interruption. "No, but I get it. I said some stuff back there, and I'm sorry. Can't help but say I still kinda feel that way, gotta be perfectly honest, but he's your brother, Mabel. You need him. He needs you. And, well... yeah..." She trailed off.

"But you... you have to look after him, Wendy!" Mabel was choking on her words. "That's what we agreed on!"

"I know, Mabel, but I can't. I'm really sorry, but I can't. He's... he's on his own."

The mid-July night would turn out to drag on for eternity. Mabel, even with all her worrying and crying, still had to tire out, wind down and get what little hours of sleep she could for the next day. Wendy could only wish for such a reprieve as the waxing moon crawled across the pitch sky and into ominous storm clouds. But not even the random nonsense of color, or a Gravekeeper with such a gift, blessed Wendy's ghost with the closest analogue of unconsciousness she could hold onto, and she was forced to listen to the violent rumbles and watch the bright flashes of lightning that the rain brought with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tear me up and throw me away


	24. As I'm falling through

It was just after sunrise that the two remaining Pines awoke and immediately began to unfurl the plan that was agreed on the previous night. Mabel quickly procured a recent photo of Dipper, the one she had taken at the diner, and was already on her way into town to get the photo cropped, printed, pasted onto her sign and have said sign be copied as many times the town copier could handle. Stan was busy calling everyone in town he knew to keep a lookout for the lost relative, more often than not getting into trysts over past transgressions. Wendy watched these two and felt out of place floating there. There wasn't anything substantial she could do at the moment with Dipper out of her range, at least until Woodstick began at noon. Wendy thought to check around town later, but for the moment she was checking out the weather report on TV.

There was to be a massive scorcher made worse by the humidity left over from the night's storm. Wendy felt both blessed and condemned that she couldn't feel the intense rays of sunlight pound into her ghost. There was no way she could tell how the heat would affect her friends, Dipper especially, and by the time she poked out of the Shack to make her rounds in town, the residents brave enough to venture out were already sweating in the unfathomably swampy air. Many took refuge indoors, though a look through every single building downtown proved to Wendy that Dipper was in no way back in town.

It was just before high noon when Wendy soared into the park where the music festival was just starting. She took careful stock of every vehicle in every parking area, but failed to spot the van she remembered chasing after the evening before. They'd have yet to show up. What if they never would? Wendy still had recent memory of just how fickle teenagers tend to be. Perhaps the music festival was dropped in favor of other activities. She hoped to God that it wasn't the case.

She had spotted Mabel near the entrance not too long after abandoning the parking lot, and watched the back-and-forth she was having with a pasty, middle-aged man about what differences Dipper was sporting between now and the time the photo was taken. A combination of the heat and the terrible circumstances made Mabel extremely cross as the man wondered aloud about having an inaccurate photo for a missing person flyer, but was pacified enough by the man's insistence that he'd keep an eye out not to begin attacking him, but it did make her withdraw to a shady, private grove of trees about twenty yards away. Wendy knew by now to follow, and after Mabel took out a bottle of water and down most of it, proceeded to ask.

"How's the search going?"

"Ugh..." Mabel groaned. "I guess I got most of the flyers out there, but I doubt it'll do any good. He's probably not even going to show up here anyway. Just why would he run away only to come back anyway?" She pulled up her knees to her face. "I should have never pressured him into summoning you like that."

"Hey, Mabel." Wendy's voice came soft. "Don't be too hard on yourself. He's not acting like himself at all, but you want to look out for him despite everything. I have a lot of respect for that."

"But you said it yourself yesterday, Wendy. He's been lying and running off and being a massive jerk to everyone! Should we even be bothering at this point?"

Those words hurt much more than Wendy could have ever anticipated, but she recovered and shot back a response fueled by pure impulse. "Dude, you said it yourself that he might not make it like this and we should be helping him even if we have to drag him kicking and screaming. Look, I'll be perfectly honest. I admit it. Dipper's been driving me up the fucking wall with all the asshattery he's been pulling since I came back, and yeah, I want to turn my back on him. I want to say to him 'You fucking deal with your problems the way you are, because I'm out!'." Wendy halted her diatribe there for Mabel's sake; Hearing how much one of her friends wanted to strangle her own lost, delinquent brother just felt plain wrong. "But I'm not going to, because I love the guy I knew when I was alive too much to do that. That Dipper's important to me. He's important to you, Mabel! That Dipper's scared and hurting and confused and... He's who we're trying to help, and I just can't give up on _him_."

"Do you really mean that?" Mabel's eyes gleaned with some precursor to hope.

"You better fucking believe it, Mabel." Wendy put on a big, hearty smile as though her entire being was still utterly faithful in her cause. "Now can we get back to bringing Dipper back home?"

Mabel mirrored her grin. "Yeah. Yeah, let's do it." She stood up, yet unexpectedly froze up. "Hey, Wendy?"

"Yeah? What's up?"

"I think I'm gonna check the tree house. You know, in case he decided to go there. If not, I'll be dropping off some things for him when he does. I mean, he has to go back there one more time. I've a feeling he'll want to. Besides, I still have a ton of flyers left, and if he does show up here later it'd might be easier for someone to have seen him."

Wendy shrugged. "Can't really argue with that logic. You sure he might pop up in the tree?"

"Well, yeah," Mabel looked away, pensively. "It's where he keeps his stuff." Wendy was struck dumb by that little reveal, but willed herself to nod knowingly anyway. "I should be back in about an hour."

"Alright, Mabes. I'll keep looking for him. Don't worry, we're gonna bring him back." Wendy had Mabel scuttle off a ways before she added, "And be sure to take care of yourself! Rest if you have to! It's hot out here!"

Mabel turned back to give a thumbs-up and a short wave, then resumed in reaching her destination. She started this round of searching the same as she started her first; She weeded her way through the parking lot, sailing above the vehicles and trying her best to disregard the ones that weren't vans nor gray while still pausing if either of those prerequisites were met, especially the latter. At one point, she found a gray van, and gandered a look inside, but found the interior to be nothing that she remembered the night before. A quick look at the license plate confirmed this: Wyoming. Wendy found this extremely weird, but shook the thought out of her brain and continued forth.

Wendy beamed from ear to ear not too long after the false alarm. While her hours of searching hadn't exactly payed off, she recognized the inside of this second, unattended gray van as the one she rode in, and the California license plate only sealed it. Dipper was indeed here with his friends, though where Wendy had no clue in the slightest. She sailed away from the parking area and into the festival to comb the area with even greater scrutiny. With more people snaking in by the minute, it would become harder to find him, although Wendy did have to wonder if Dipper was already found by security or the police and was on his way home. Without a way to contact Mabel, though, Wendy had no way to find this out, and so continued searching.

It was near the main stage that she spotted a familiar form with three other figures Wendy knew she had to have seen before. She zoomed forward until the first head turned to look at a spectacle of several arguing festival goers being accosted by a pair of security guards, and she practically squealed in delight. It really was Dipper, and he had survived the night without her!

Wendy hovered in close to her living friend. He was sweating profusely, and on top of that, looked vaguely spaced out; There was a glassy stare not unlike the one he gave while floating on dex. It wouldn't be that improbable he'd got his hands on some, nor impossible that he'd dabbled in weed again. There wasn't so much evidence otherwise that could prove something was in his system other than his dreamy stare. The bruise on his face was indeed somehow shallow, and jaundiced yellow speckles already had began growing inside the blue mark. Sometime during their separation Dipper had found access to a shaver, and he was wearing her hat securely on his head, though the one or two uneasy glances he made upward in the short time Wendy had found him suggested that his paranoia of the object was already getting to him.

The quartet, however, broke away from the concert and was led by Jenny a ways, until they found their fifth member, Joey, skulking about an unpatrolled portion of the festival and gesturing the rest of his friends towards a complete stranger who, even in the rough, summer heat, was wearing a thick hoodie. He was a tall, gaunt man, assured in his actions yet keeping his guard at a constant. Wendy couldn't determine if his age was in his mid-twenties or late-thirties.

"Hey, Jameson." Joey waved.

He looked at each of the five young people before him, then procured a folded up piece of paper that he straightened out and displayed to them all. "Just so you know, I don't have much time to spare before I have to run. So pick something, give me money, and I'll give you what you want."

The man's speech was short yet sweet. Dipper stifled a yawn while Jenny and, shockingly, Keith carefully but hastily made their choices. Wendy had a sick feeling tell her what this person was, and what the menu he was displaying contained, and a closer look proved her suspicions. The paper was placed between Jameson's lips, then he pulled out tiny bags containing two or three colorful pills each. Wendy looked at the paper and wondered briefly between her horror and disgust just how anyone could decipher such a confusing layout, but her thoughts returned to the real matter at hand instantly enough.

Dipper shifted about on his feet, and his own eyes scanned the paper. Wendy couldn't tell in the slightest what he was thinking, and apparently, neither did his friends.

"Hey, kid. Aren't you gonna get something?"

Dipper let a second pass to think about the question. "I don't know..."

"C'mon, it'll be fun!" Jenny pumped the air through her tank top as she said this. "You need to treat yourself after having that awful double nightmare last night."

"You mean you want Dipper to reward himself after waking us all up twice?" Tim halfheartedly shot his arms up. "I guess! Why not? I mean he did it after passing out drunk. That's quite a feat."

"Hey, it was the hardest on him. I don't think he ever needed that much consoling before."

The man tapped both feet and urgency rang in his subdued voice. "Hurry up..."

A tired Dipper yawned again, then made his way forward. "Yeah, I guess that's right. Kinda want to have fun and forget life for a while. So why not?"

Wendy had become crestfallen and despondent over just how low Dipper was starting to sink, and her flagging spirits intersected and were overtaken by a grim realization over just how empty even this botched version of a longtime friend was starting to become that she couldn't help but zoom directly in front of him and babble about.

"No dude. Dipper, come on, you seriously know better than to try hard drugs, man!" Turmoil was could not describe the despairing feelings Wendy had. "C'mon, man! You're the smartest guy I know! Don't do something this reckless!"

Dipper had studied the chart as well as he could and with as much careful consideration his sleep-deprived mind could handle. Eyes glanced between two different options, then a finger went in right through Wendy's ethereal form to point at his final choice.

"This one."

"Dipper, stop this! Please! You're going to hurt yourself or worse! Your family... how's Mabel gonna handle it when she hears that you died because of drugs?!" Tears wisped down a frightened, trembling ghost. "At least feel _something_ about this! I don't care if you're tired! Stop feeling nothing! Do you want to die?!"

Jameson was bemused by the choice made. "I like your cahjones. That'll be fifty bucks."

Dipper was taken aback to where he was awakened just a little. "Wait, fifty?"

"Yeah, fifty!"

"But the price clearly says thirty. I'm five bucks short of fifty."

Jameson took a gander at his own mess of a graphical spreadsheet. "No, kid. Some of the prices here are inaccurate. Although..."

"What?"

"Maybe I can lower it by ten if you trade me that hat you're wearing too."

"What?" Dipper's interest was piqued, and to Wendy's horror, Dipper didn't appear to be disgusted by the idea in the slightest.

"Is that real fur?"

"...To the best of my knowledge."

Jameson gave an approving noise of some kind. "I like that. So, what do you say? We have a deal?"

"Well... umm..."

Dipper took off the hat, but didn't give it away. Instead, he looked into it like an eight-ball awaiting a fortune he didn't want to see. Just looking into the hat conjured up a rainbow of memories to the boy, and he was frozen there with a crisis of conscious literally in his hands.

"Dude, don't do it!" A familiar feeling of vitriol surged into Wendy's veins.

"Hurry up, I don't have all day!"

Dipper looked at his friends, then at the dealer, then at Wendy's old hat, which had made the interest of the dealer to where he was offering Dipper the monetary discount in return for. He drummed his fingers into the fur of the hat, staring intently at the prized possession, and Wendy could not believe that Dipper was taking this long to consider what should be a no-brainer. It was quickly souring her disposition, and every second Dipper thought about it was another insult to the ghost floating beside him.

"Dude, don't give him my hat!" Wendy felt her own memory of inheriting the object from her dying mother whisk through her mind, and her anger intensified. "I swear to God, Dipper, don't give that skeeve my hat! It's all I have left of my Mom! If you do then it's over! You're gonna be on your own!"

Dipper's brow furrowed as he wiped off his sweat. He was genuinely conflicted by the situation. He knew it had belonged to a beloved, long time friend, but he was desperately afraid and uncomfortable just being in the same room of the hat. It carried a strong representation of the hurt Dipper had sustained from the accident, as with time his own psychic bleeding had stained the object, twisting it from a gentle reminder to a phantom. Wendy saw the look of nauseous, hateful vindication crossing his eyes. He wanted to be freed, and foremost, he wanted to forget.

"Sure. Here, take it. I don't want it anymore." Dipper practically shoved the hat into the man's hands, as well as the forty dollars. Jameson, initially taken aback, regained composure and handed Dipper the dimebag containing the four strange pills.

"Alright. Glad we worked somethin' out!" The dealer grinned, twirling the hat around his finger. "Now, if you don't mind, I gotta skedaddle. Sure was fun meeting you!"

The two parties dispersed in opposite directions, Jameson much more hurriedly and sly in his exit. Wendy had kept her fiery gaze on Dipper and his friends. Already, he had dry swallowed one of the pills, cold and uncaring, at least on the surface. But it didn't matter to Wendy while she felt verbal bile bubble up in her throat and boil over her lips.

"Dipper, you fucking asshole." her tongue lashed. "Dude, I thought you beating up your sister when she was only trying to help was bad. But this?! I can't believe you did this. You sold my hat. My Mom's hat, really! Don't know if you realize this, but that hat means a lot to me. That hat was a memory, man! Of my Mom! Who, by the way, is now being tortured in Hell just because she wanted to help me help you! So yeah, _thanks for that_."

Her face twisted to an ugly snarl while slender fingers clutched and yanked at clumps of hair.

"Speaking of, you won't even help _yourself_. You just keep doing these things to yourself like an _idiot_ , and _hurting_ everyone that cares over and over again. So you know what? _I_ don't care anymore! I hope you overdose. The sooner the better for everyone! Hey, maybe you'll die! At least then you'll stop disappointing your real friends and your family!" She huffed, the zenith of her nuclear rage passing her with the faint aftertaste of guilt barely registering. "I'm gonna go get my hat back, Dipper. Then, I'm gonna store it up in the tree house for now. If _anything_ should happen to you, well, _you_ get to deal with it. I'm not gonna try helping you anymore. You blew it! You're on your own."

Wendy took a good, last look of her friend, now sporting an air of well-being that she prayed would collapse in on himself in the worst way possible, and turned away. She was done with Dipper. If this was the life he wanted to live, so fucking be it. He could take care of himself if he had to. She had some personal business to take care of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your back is begging sweetly for my knives


	25. Young supernovas

Wendy glared at the scumbag now wearing her hat and stalked him like a hungry predator. He had taken a secret route behind the scenes where nobody would follow him, eyes darting and scanning his surroundings in case there were, and blended into the scene like a chameleon, ready to pop up somewhere else with his wares.

"You're so going down."

Wendy was seething these words through her teeth. The fact that this man was slithering about so well made her gut heavy with bile. He must have been doing this for years, and probably ruined more than one life while he was at it. The hat was still of utmost personal importance, but Wendy was more than eager to drag this person screaming straight to the judges.

She crept up behind the man and ominously loomed over him like a second, malicious shadow. Wendy glanced around the ever-changing festival scene about her as this man hurried through the crowds and completely ignoring the music stages. Most of the security guards were distracted by one reason or another, none of which were nearly as valid to Wendy as the criminal before her. Retribution had to happen to him, before he made any more deals. He wouldn't hurt anybody anymore, Dipper included. No, Wendy thought. _He_ made his bed. _He_ was hurting himself, and liked it too immensely to be worth saving at this juncture.

The opportunity came to Wendy when the man broke away from the crowds yet again and found his car in a parking lot far removed from the gray van. He fiddled with his key and jumped behind the driver seat, closing the door behind him, but wasn't going anywhere soon, as he was too busy leaning under the passenger seat rooting around for more supplies. The man paused to further inspect Wendy's old hat, especially the inside.

"Oh man, if I can sew in a couple pockets in here, I could possibly..." Jameson trailed off, letting a perverted smile speak for him. He nodded. "Yeah, I could probably go do that. Wouldn't be too hard? Though I would have to ruin such a marvelous thing..."

Jameson pondered aloud to himself further on the idea that he had, oblivious to the invisible force ready to retaliate against him. Wendy focused all her psychic energy to violently slam the door outward and hit a neighboring car's left mirror in the process, and smiled herself when the man darted his whole body around to view the spectacle and flinch in one motion.

"What the FUCK?!" He spotted the damaged mirror. "Oh shit! Oh SHIT!" The hat was all but forgotten at this point when the man scurried out the car to inspect what had happened. "How can thi- The door was closed! _The door was closed!_ "

Another innocent car was damaged in the name of justice as Wendy rammed open the driver side door and scraped the neighboring vehicle. Jameson turned around with such wild eyes that Wendy could have sworn he might have been actually high on something himself.

"Hey, what's going on here?"

Basking in the absolute fortuitousness of the situation was necessary now that this security guard happened to notice the commotion and actually cared to take a closer look. She waited for the perfect time, then Wendy grabbed at Jameson's sweat-soaked hoodie and yanked it off him with an intentionally sloppy motion so some of its contents were jostled out of the hidden, hand-stitched inner pockets. The man was beyond spooked, and when the guard saw him and the scene before him, bolted and led the guard away in a chase that he was sure to lose. The guard looked as though to be a very good runner, and was hastily calling for backup to boot. Jameson was sure to be caught and taken care of.

Alone, Wendy took her prize, and protectively held it up to herself. Like hell she was going to let a treasure such as this get away. Before a passerby could witness the impossibility of a floating hat, Wendy zoomed into the trees until she was certain herself that no one would follow, and paused to hoot and holler her double victory. The adrenaline rush created a natural high for the spirit, an irony given the situation, but Wendy could care less. Her hat was now back in her possession, with that creep's brief ownership being the only thing that tainted the headwear, in memory only. But the epic way it was wrestled back, Wendy supposed, more than made up for that.

If ghosts could saunter, Wendy was doing so much more than that. Sauntering gave way to fist pumping and dancing, though Wendy kept mindful enough not to have the hat drop or hit an oak as it was flailed about. She had to take a long route to make it back to the tree house, and was taking her sweet time in doing so, if only to replay that moment over and over again in her head and relish that she had done something good for the world she no longer had a body in and take something of hers back while she was at it.

All feelings have to end and meld into something quieter, and the closer Wendy got to the hideout, the more her celebration simmered down to a prideful contentment, then playful musing over what she'd want to do after dropping off her payload. Woodstick may have cost money to get in for the living, but the joke's on them. She wanted to go back and enjoy an afternoon of awesome music. No admission fee, can't feel the heat, no need for food or water- being dead certainly can have its perks.

The tree house appeared later than Wendy had thought, but she shrugged, and ascended forth. Someone had to have been up here since several nights ago, and Wendy hazarded a pretty safe guess that it was Mabel; The bag that was left there didn't look unfamiliar. She opened up the zipper and looked at its contents. Inside was the old wooden board that had been Wendy's gateway back into the world of the living, along with the notebooks and what she assumed were tools necessary for the summoning ritual, and some odd candy bars and a bottle of water. Wendy couldn't help but scoff at this collection of items. Like hell Dipper would use any of these things at this point.

Wendy reverently placed the hat in, getting an eyeful of the important symbol in her life. Wendy cracked a grin; If her Mom saw what she'd done now, she'd be...

She'd...

The grin faltered. Every time Wendy had taken a good look at this hat, she was reminded of her Mom, and this time around was no exception, but now the memory of that promise at the graveyard was shoving its way through Wendy's spirit. She'd promised not to give up on her friend. Wendy pursed her lips in pensive thought when she realized that was exactly what she did, out of fear and, more regrettably, anger. She leafed through her feelings toward Dipper now that one of his mistakes had been rectified, yet Wendy couldn't help but still feel justified in her actions. He... needed to learn the error of his ways. He needed to know firsthand that none of what he was doing to himself was in any way fine. He needed to have a brush with Death to try and hopefully scare him straight.

Yet, sentimental thoughts danced about the deeper Wendy stared at the bear fur. Dipper was a very caring guy. Single-minded at times, absolutely, and he'd made a butt out of himself more than once over the years, but he'd do anything to protect those close to him. Even... run towards a burning car in a life-or-death situation. It didn't exonerate him from what he was doing to himself now. Not even close. But Wendy grimaced while she recalled the moment she'd given up on him.

"Oh man, I really did quit on Dipper. That was kinda shitty of me..." Her warring conscious thought aloud. "No... no, dude needs a few days without me so he can learn something. Though," She sighed as more of her angry speech from before was recalled. "I should really take that whole death thing back. Dipper doesn't deserve nearly that much."

Wendy floated twenty feet from the forest floor, thinking over her options with careful consideration. Dipper was her friend. A close one. He needed to learn, but learn what? He was in enough pain as it was. Would more of that really be the answer? Wendy shook her head of the thought. Maybe it would be.

But he successfully isolated himself from everyone close to him, perhaps as a way to keep them safe from himself. He'd experience and suffer the pain in silence, and would keep pushing everyone away.

"I..."

Dipper had been deeply scarred by the accident. He'd been deeply scarred by other traumatic events, Bill in particular, but he pulled through those, though sometimes plagued by a nightmare every now and then. This time, he couldn't drum up the resilience, and the nightmare was a constant scream in his day to day life. One day, deep in the future, Dipper would be able to pull himself back up, but he needed to be living to give that time any sort of possibility to arrive.

That revelation had Wendy make up her mind once and for all.

"I gotta make sure Dipper's okay."

Wendy closed the backpack promptly, but hung in the air for another moment or two in introspection, and let a wistful smile grace her being.

"Thanks, Mom." Wendy gazed at the backpack. "So glad you're still looking after us even after all the crap that happened."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the heat's about to break


	26. This is What it Feels Like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which I am such a prude. To an extent. And the second and final chapter I upload before taking a long bus ride back to California. Fingers crossed it takes the usual two days this time instead of the three it took to get home.

Steely resolution sailed Wendy through the trees at a speed rivaling that of her times that she had to flee a Gravekeeper. But those monsters were the last thing on Wendy's mind at the moment as she broke the treeline and found the music festival almost dead ahead of her. She realized that she had little time to think on where Dipper had to be this time around, and she correctly hazard a guess that if he had to be anywhere, it'd either be near the music stands or hanging around the van in the parking lot. Wendy chose the latter.

It was a short time skirting around the parking area before Wendy spotted Dipper and Jenny hanging around Tim's van. Dipper's frenetic pacing, punctuated by wild hand movements and, as Wendy got closer, rapid yammering, was unsettling, to say the least. It meant he was sky high and, by his wild eyed smile, enjoying every millisecond of this. Dipper wiped some sweat off his brow, not pausing from his diatribe to Jenny who, by her own fidgeting, probably had some of what Dipper took as well.

"I mean that settles it! I'm not going back! I can just go with you guys to Nevada!"

Jenny laughed. "We'd have to run it by Tim first, thou-"

"Fuck Tim! I'm still going even if he says no! Do you know what's gonna happen when I'm shipped back to Piedmont? I'm gonna be caged up!" More sweat was furiously scrubbed away.

"But your family, Dipper... I know they hate us, but I think they're really great people and they want to help."

"That's why I'm taking a new identity, Jenny! The last year fucked me up and I just want to leave everything behind and start a new life!"

Wendy wasn't quite sure if she was following Dipper's logic here. And that was a very bad sign.

"Jeez, Dipper. You do know how much that makes it sound like you want to kill yourself?"

"But I feel amazing! Why would I want to?!" He cackled. "And besides, this is an even _better_ idea! Totally divorce myself from this life. Make up a new life history, and commit to it! I-I can't believe I never thought of this before! It's genius!"

"No, it's really stupid and dangerous." Wendy said with a flat affect, still very upset at Dipper for hocking her prized hat away, but starting to care once more for his well-being. "Jesus, man, you're really tripping out on that... whatever you took." She sighed and let her hand grace her head; Couldn't she tell by now just how useful her unheard advice was going to be?

"And besides, I'm smart! I can get money easily if I just put my skills out there! I could leave everything behind and start a new life and-"

Wendy felt queasy at Dipper's babbling. He was, in no sense of the phrase, sound of mind. Neither was Jenny, but at least there was some inkling of clarity in her. She grabbed Dipper by the wrists and yammered back at him to bring him back from inside his exploding head.

"Dude, dude, dude, I think you're missing a key detail here."

"What?"

Jenny rolled her eyes and giggled at Dipper's blindness. "Your birthmark, stupid!"

Dipper placed a hand to his forehead, the constant smile he had worn trembled. "Oh, I... I never thought of that." The grin returned. "What if I got scars, though? I could always say my parents were abusive and would cut my face open all the time! Or I had a bad accident and needed brain surgery!"

"Woah, are you really _that_ willing to remove it?"

Dipper responded before Jenny could finish. "Yeah! I don't want to be found!"

"Why not a tattoo?"

"A face tattoo? Jenny, no! Those are just... no!" Dipper laughed. "Unless it's to make the marks less visible."

"That's what I meant, Dip!"

He blinked. "Oh man, I change my mind, then!" Dipper turned away from the van and plopped down next to Jenny. "This is literally the best thing! I can seriously get a new life! The stars are aligning!" Hoots and hollers and scratching at the forearms. "What name should I choose? Roger Smith? James... ah, fuck it! This is so great! I'm so great! Everything is great! I need more greatness!"

Jenny scoffed and playfully nudged Dipper. "You just took that second pill like twenty minutes ago. I think you're gonna get a whole lot greater!"

"I know! I-I think I'm already starting to feel it. My heart's beating like a drum! It's amazing! I'm actually thinking clearly for once! I-I want to celebrate, Jenny!"

The kiss had come on sudden after a short moment of desperate consideration by Jenny. It had started open mouthed. Dipper was taken completely by surprise, eyes wide and blinking, but while a sane Dipper would awkwardly push Jenny away and stammer out excuses, Wendy found that version of Dipper dormant. He not only reciprocated, but he latched onto Jenny with keening ferocity. Arms tangled and bodies tumbled about in the grass. Jenny broke the kiss, latching her mouth onto the side of Dipper's neck to bite and suckle. By the way Dipper groaned and wrapped his legs around one of Jenny's, he seemed to have really liked that. Wendy's spirit had caught a glance of the front of Dipper's body when he and Jenny tumbled forth some more; Simply put, he was very frisky, if the subsequent leg humping wasn't enough of a clue.

"Woah, Dipper!" Jenny took this new development very well with the way she reciprocated the action.

"Please..." Dipper whined. "I-I... we need to-"

"Dude, we should totally piss Tim off and just do it."

Incredulousness from Dipper and Wendy. "Seriously?" They had both staggered their disbelief; Wendy added, "No, please, Dipper, think for a moment, dude!"

"Yeah, man! Tim's terrible! I want to break up with him so bad, you know?" Jenny freed herself from Dipper's leg grip and ran up to Tim's van. "C'mon, get in! I have a key."

Dipper didn't want to wait another second. Wendy wondered if Dipper even had any ability to think logically at this point. Jenny hopped into the driver seat to turn the key and turn on the A/C, dialing it down as per her plan, then bolted to the side door, where Dipper was impatiently scratching at his sides. He had already opened it, but only when Jenny embraced him tightly with another intense love-bite did Dipper allow himself to dive into the vehicle, and with a free arm, shut the door behind him.

To a distant passerby, nothing too funny was happening inside this particular van, its build and suspension was configured in such a way that it was rickety, and any small movement would translate to violent rocking. Moving in closer though, like what Wendy found herself doing, one could begin hearing an awkward rhythm perfect for a first time.

Wendy stopped herself before she got too close, and in fact floated back considerably to give her friend space, angling herself below the windows to protect her brain. There was a fine line between following Dipper around and making sure he was okay and blatant voyeurism, after all. But still, she could hear the muffled mewls and giggling of the pair devolve to ecstatical shouting and swearing. Wendy, uncertain as she felt she was able to stop these two horny teenagers now, and certain her face would have been flushed in a deep, awkward red if she were still alive, let herself be amused; She didn't know Dipper had such a mouth.

She peered to the front of the van cautiously and psychically fiddled with the A/C so it was on full blast, but it did nothing to faze either Jenny or Dipper; If anything, the clunky air conditioning made it all worse, subjectively. Minutes passed, then a final, climatic yell brought the van to an unassuming calm once again.

Wendy expected Dipper and Jenny to crawl out of the van, both sweaty messes compounded from the vehicle's oppressive heat, or at least open up the doors to let in some fresh air. When the minutes dragged on and the van remained silent and stationary, Wendy ventured forward as her concern grew. For whatever reason, dark thoughts caught in Wendy's mind and refused to let go. In a vehicle that sun-baked, and Dipper under the effects of God-knows-what, he could be overheating badly. The A/C might as well be useless with how low she had seen it be turned, and by how shoddily it operated at full blast.

She almost let herself poke her head over the window, but the van started shaking just in time for her to jump back down. She could feel a phantom heat flush her entire face, and Wendy allowed herself to float off a fair distance to allow Dipper even more private time. 

A deep voice rang out with an exasperated growl. Wendy turned to her right, and became very weak. Tim was stomping his way over to his van, grumbling and boiling with annoyance. "Goddamn Keith fucking forgetting shit..."

Wendy knew exactly where he was heading. She knew the kind of person he was. She knew whose girlfriend and which adversary were together, banging like rabbits. This was not going to end well. Wendy knew her pleading would be useless, nothing more than a rudderless babbling to a man with no idea of a spiritual presence, and every step he made closer to the van made Wendy's gut churn progressively worse.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, dude, don't open the door, please don't open the door."

At the moment he reached the van door's window and peered at the scene inside, Wendy gulped. Tim's face went from shock, to betrayal, to a deep, murderous rage, and when he snapped, his nickname exploded into full resplendence.

"What the FUCK?!" Wendy heard Dipper's scream especially loudly when Tim slammed the back door open. "WHAT THE FUCK, DIPSHIT?!"

Two simultaneous shrieks of surprise gave way to high-pitched begging. "Oh my God, Tim, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Dipper's apology came quick and weaselly, infuriating Tim into entering the back of the van, fists raised. "I'm gonna fucking KILL YOU."

"Tim, stop!" Jenny yelled.

Jenny's words were useless, and Wendy could hear the slamming of fists into flesh. Dipper popped out, reaching desperately towards the back bumper, but a large hand grabbed his shoulder and threw him right back in. Dipper was begging Tim to stop between the punches and kneeing and throttling. The van rocked back and forth for a different purpose. Wendy heard Tim's breath get knocked out of him several times as Dipper defended himself from the onslaught brought forth at him. A falsetto wail pierced the scene as a blow landed where Wendy could only assume was Dipper's groin.

"Tim, knock it off!"

Again, Jenny's words unheeded, Tim's wrath continued. More choking sounds came from the vehicle. Tim had pinned Dipper to the interior side of the van, and he was fully intending to strangle a losing Dipper to death. When that thought crossed Wendy's mind, she decided to let go of all pretense. She grabbed ahold of a broken umbrella discarded not too far away and charged for the van. Fuck any witnesses, it'd all be chalked up to the drugs if it came to that. Now was not the time to be sheepish.

"Tim, stop!"

Wendy heard a blunt object connect, and Tim's subsequent yelp. She dropped the umbrella right as Dipper scrambled outside of the van, in pain and out of breath. Once he hit the ground, he made his clear breakaway from Tim and his fury shirtless, shoeless, and pants merely buttoned, caring more for the preserving of his life than Jenny's now that she and Tim were alone. His belt buckle smacked into his pelvis with each stride and a hand struggled to keep his jeans up while he fled.

Dipper scrambled through throngs of people, who'd at most stopped to glance at him for a moment at the spectacle before moving on. It was through one of these crowds that Wendy lost track of Dipper; Not even floating above to get a better look did any good. Dipper may or may not have intended to do this in case Tim was chasing him down, but if he did plan this, he needed to have succeeded with flying colors, as now Wendy was scanning the throngs of attendants for the single person running for their lives. She took a gamble and zoomed vaguely rightward, then left, then back as anxiety pooled up and clouded Wendy's sensibilities.

"Hey!"

Wendy heard someone call out from behind her, but paid it no mind. She darted and made a hard left, certain she saw Dipper run right past her, though was disappointed to find that she had only seen a mere stranger racing towards friends.

"Wendy!"

Wendy stopped mid-turn. Someone was seeing her float around in a panic, and had called out. But it wasn't Mabel. She knew Mabel's voice, and this voice was much too deep to be hers. She spun around, scanning the crowd around her once, then twice, and saw two burly arms waving her down.

"Grenda!" Wendy waved back, then pointed towards the edge of the festival. "Meet me over there!"

Grenda nodded, and the two made their way to a private corner of the busy event. Wendy couldn't believe it, and felt stupid for forgetting so easily that Grenda had been there when she was summoned. Sheer fortuity had them crossing paths at just the right time. Her spirits rose considerably.

"Oh God, dude, I'm so glad I found you!"

"What are you doing here in the first place, Wendy?" Grenda asked in pure obliviousness. "I thought you were hanging around Dipper!"

"Dude, I was, but I lost track of him."

"Wait, so he's here?"

"Yeah! I don't know what he's on, but he's not in the best state of mind right now. I mean, just before he was..." Wendy shut her mouth into a tight, straight line. "You know what, never mind that! Just know that he royally pissed off that Tim guy with some bad choices. And now I lost him! I don't know where he ran off to!"

"I saw him." Grenda pointed towards the center of the music festival. "He went that way!"

"Okay, good! C'mon, we need to follow him!"

"He could be anywhere by now, though! He was like a rocket!"

"Still! We need to catch up to him. I'll look from above. If I see him, I'll be waving you down!"

Wendy didn't wait for Grenda to agree to this plan, and took off in the direction Grenda had specified. She assumed Grenda was behind her, to an extent, though much farther behind. Wendy floated upwards, until she had a decent bird's eye view of the scene. Just trying to find the right brown haired, shirtless young man was like trying to find Waldo. Although, failure to find Dipper would mean much more than a shrug of indifference and a turn of the page. Any runners locked into Wendy's vision and were scanned, only to be let go when Wendy became convinced they weren't her friend.

"Wendy, over here!" Again, she turned around and saw Grenda in the distance, waving wildly and pointing. "He went into the parking lot!"

Wendy sailed past the crowds and vendors, and immediately spotted a familiar, sweaty head of brown hair jogging between cars and vans, feet slamming into the earth at a slowing pace until finally ceasing. At first, Dipper looked simply tired and out-of-breath from all the physical exertion he had put himself through. But as Wendy drew up to her friend, she had the terrible realization of just how powerful the drug he had twice ingested really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sinking, spinning.


	27. Jesus, what a mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walking gingerly across the bruised earth.

Dipper situated himself under the shade of another group's abandoned van, struggling desperately against a worsening wobble to remain standing. Wendy's sense of dread intensified the closer she got to him; He looked absolutely sick. His skin had taken on a blood red tint, and he was drenched in an ever-thickening layer of sweat. His ragged breath refused to shove itself down his lungs, and Dipper gasped with an impossibly high, asthmatic pitch in his throat.

Despite that, he was somehow stuck in a tiny tremor, practically a shiver. Bruises were forming from Tim's beat-down across Dipper's abdomen, face and neck. His left eye was starting to close from all the swelling. One hand was grasping and tearing at his chest, desperate to stop the pounding flutter, while another clawed at his arm and formed welted ribbons. He was grinding his teeth between short, desperate gasps for air. Dipper's legs trembled and ultimately buckled, forcing him first to his knees, then to his side. The abuse he had put on his body had finally come to take its toll, and the extreme heat was going to give Dipper the exact opposite of mercy.

"Oh God, Dipper!"

Wendy couldn't help but panic and point a finger at herself. She did this. She abandoned Dipper and left him to his own devices and now he was collapsed in the shade, struggling to remain conscious. His body could only cope for so long on its own with the dice stacked against him like this.

"I'm so sorry, dude! I shouldn't have... I mean I'm still really mad that you'd do that to me but I didn't want..."

Grenda had burst through, interrupting Wendy's begging and drawing out a moan from Dipper. She took one look at her friend's twin. "Oh, jeez. Wendy, I don't think he's looking too good."

"Oh, you think?!" Wendy couldn't help but snap at Grenda. "Hurry up and do something!"

Grenda rolled Dipper onto his back and sat him up. He made a powerful wince despite his mental retreating and squeezed his thighs together, still trembling and shivering and sucking air into overly tensed lungs.

"Look at his eyes."

"What do you mean?" Wendy floated close up, meeting dilated pupils.

"Look at them. He's on something intense! Hey Dipper, are you okay?"

Dipper's eyes focused weakly on Grenda, seemingly unaware of the last ten seconds that had played out before him. "W-water..." he gasped. Wendy felt a tiny relief; He was responsive to a degree.

Wendy watched as Grenda propped Dipper over her shoulders and jogged back over to the event. Dipper looked as though he was ready to throw up, though from what Wendy couldn't tell. But for the moment he was gagging on top of abnormalized breathing on top of teeth grinding; Sudden vomiting into his lungs was a definite possibility. Grenda managed to quickly draw the attention of a nearby security guard, who had noticed the young man she was carrying, and escorted her towards the nearest first-aid tent.

"Got an overheated kid over here!"

The guard announced Dipper's arrival to any idle volunteer she could bring to attention. Fans were inside blowing in full force, and when Dipper was situated into the first available bed several of these fans were turned towards him. A nurse took his temperature and read it out loud before placing a sopping wet washcloth behind Dipper's neck: 103.4. A second volunteer pulled off Dipper's jeans, exposing his boxers, and while she placed more cooling compresses on his crotch, head and armpits, the first volunteer asked several questions of Grenda and the guard.

"I dunno! He has to be on something, but I dunno what!"

"Alright." Notes were jotted down. "Do either of you know if the bruises on him were self-inflicted?"

"No. He was like that when I found him!"

"Yeah..." The guard agreed. "I mean look at him. Guy looks like he got beat up pretty bad."

"I see, I see..."

A second volunteer entered, and looked very uneasy at Dipper's struggling for air. "Guys, should we get him to a hospital?"

"I-I don't know." The first volunteer answered. "We just got him in here. Maybe wait and see if he gets any better as-is."

It wasn't too long until the second volunteer had procured a sports drink and given it to Dipper, who had greedily snatched it up and, while propped up, drank this life source up until the last drop. During this time the volunteer nurse had noted the bruising and left to grab an ice bag to help with the black eye.

The scene, to Wendy, was surreal. The aid tent reminded her so much of a hospital, that she swore she could see EKG machines out in the corner of her eye. Big, foreboding bodies towered over her mind's eye and seemingly jumped from her fantasy to reality. Distant echoes served to heighten Wendy's confusion. The green and earthly browns of the tent interior paled to an off-white tinge, and for a concise moment Wendy felt choked, weak, and restrained from this sudden, nonsensical hallucination. She panicked as she glanced downward to see snakes burrowing into her throat and arm, and she reflexively shot a hand up to attempt yanking these reptiles out of her body.

Maybe she was feeling the heat after all. She felt abnormally hot and it sapped her of energy to where her ghost drooped downward. Or, as the vision cleared, snakes vanished and her energy and true reality returned, Wendy guessed, it could have been the work of a Gravekeeper, but when she shot upward for a quick scout of the area, there was nothing that would have served as a tiniest clue any of those beasts were here. 

Relief passed through everyone involved, even Wendy and Dipper himself, when he had turned a corner in his treatment. His skin looked much less flushed after about fifteen minutes, and his breathing was starting to even out. Dipper was starting to take real notice of his surroundings, as the way he glanced at the people caring for him was one of sentience. A second reading was done: 102.1. Still too high, but still better than before.

However, while Dipper was no longer stunned by heat sickness, his heart still raced, setting off a wave of manic paranoia. Wendy knew the look Dipper made when he was in those clutches: wild-eyed, muscles tensed, and with this new drug circulating his system once again taking over, he was overcome with an irresistible urge to claw off his own skin. Imperfect fingernails caught on quickly to skin and formed welts first, then cuts. The first volunteer, having just finished her questioning to the guard and Grendy, noticed blood leaking out of these cuts, and had no qualms in roughly grabbing Dipper by the wrists and forcing them down to his sides.

"Sir, please refrain from doing that." She let go in a display of trust towards the young man in front of her, and her tone changed from one of command to one of sweet concern. "Now, I want you to know that you're in a safe place. You don't have to be afraid of admitting that you've taken illegal substances. It won't go against you. We just need to know so we can properly care for you. Understand?"

Dipper gulped and nodded. Wendy knew that the information did little to quell her friend's anxiety. It wasn't that he was specifically worrying over being charged for possession, but he was terrified of something else. Something cresting out of the dark shadows of his mind.

"What did you take, exactly?"

Dipper kept his mouth shut out of fear. The volunteer was about ready to admonish Dipper, but went for a different tack.

"At least, do you have any left?"

This time, Dipper was cooperative. "Yeah. In the f-front pocket."

He was trembling, ready to burst without a moment's notice. In fact, as the volunteer rummaged through his pants pockets and pulled out the last pill, Dipper shot up and jumped to his feet. This time around, the security guard was on top of him.

"Woah, you're not leaving yet!"

Dipper let his limbs flail blindly about when he was sat back down, fighting the strength of the guard, hoping to be freed long enough to run for it once more. "Young man, I'm urging you to stop this now!"

"No! I feel better!" Dipper jerked around. "Really! Let me go! I have to get to Nevada! Let me... oh God, why did I do that to her?!"

Wendy and the guard were equally confused; The guard hadn't really done anything more than hold Dipper down. But by the look on his face, the euphoria that he had largely been soaking in the last two or three hours had completely been flushed out by its terrifying opposite. He looked despondent. Then, he began violently thrashing about, yanked an arm free and hammered it into the guard's shoulder. While the action freed his other arm, Grenda was there to manhandle him down; Her combined strength and Dipper's own significant fever proved too much for him.

While he was subdued, both volunteer nurses reluctantly tied down his arms, then when he refused to stop kicking at everyone, bound down his legs, and returned the cold compresses to their spots. The two nurses remorsefully turned away, the one having talked to Dipper just then noting that she had seen the pill.

"Thank God he didn't take any more pills than he had. We definitely would have needed to rush him over."

Wendy painfully listened to her friend screaming out. It was the only thing he could do now that all four limbs were tied down, and his struggles to break himself free were all for naught, except for toeing off muddied socks from his feet. Every once in a while the nurse hovering over him and trying to comfort him would check his vitals, and every once in a while his primal screams gave way to nonsensical diatribes regarding personal visions. Wendy turned to Grenda, and motioned to her that she should contact Mabel in some way. Grenda nodded, told the guard where she was heading, and left the tent.

Wendy had to admit to being impressed that Dipper could scream with such agonized intensity for so long, but the people around the tent caring for other patients were growing annoyed by it. Another heat victim nearby yelled "Shut that fucking kid up!" several times before his attending nurse, tired from the heat herself and sick of the cacophony, gave Dipper an ultimatum: Be quiet or be shipped off to the ER. Dipper chose to be quiet. He didn't want to dig himself deeper, let alone ever step into a hospital ever again, but he couldn't help but sob quietly and beg pathetically for everything to stop, continuing to have his wrists and ankles dig themselves into their restraints while the hours agonizingly trudged by.

Soon, though, he went completely silent. He stopped fighting, and every muscle in his being relaxed. Silent tears streamed down his sunburnt face. Wendy allowed herself to breathe easy; The dangerous part was over. The drug was leaving his system. At this point the volunteer the first attended to him freed him from his bonds and helped him to sit up and put his jeans back on. His temperature was taken again: 99.4. The fans were pulled away, given to other patients in the tent, and after the nurse took the opportunity to bandage wounds, asked Dipper several questions regarding his injuries. Dipper had no trouble in opening up; He was beat up badly being caught fooling around with his attacker's girlfriend. He was then asked to wait there. His head bobbed down. The one eye he could still open was closed. He could have fallen asleep then if he wanted to.

"Excuse me, young man?"

Dipper tilted his neck towards the officer, blinking his bleary, swollen, tired eye open. "Yeah?"

"Do you happen to be Dipper Pines?" The officer didn't wait, and brushed Dipper's hairline upward and gawked at his birthmark.

Dipper closed his eye and cleared his throat. "Yeah..."

"Identification?"

Dipper sluggishly fished out his wallet and handed the cop his ID. The officer looked at the image, then at the young man sitting there and struggling to keep awake. He nodded, and handed the card back to Dipper.

"We've been looking for you. Family called in and said you went missing yesterday. Your sister'd been around earlier asking the guards to keep an eye out for you." He smiled. "Looks like she was right thinking you'd be here."

"Yeah. She's a good sister like that."

"You've been cleared to leave the tent, but I'm afraid we'll have to take you home, though. Straight home, I mean."

"Wait, so I'm not going to jail?" His shock was hidden deep within his monotonous question.

"This is one of those safe zones. No police station or jail cells or anything. And in any case, you've suffered enough."

Dipper bowed his head in deference. "...Thank you."

"No problem. Let's get you home now, alright?"

Dipper was escorted straight from the first aid tent down to the police car. He didn't put up a fight, and thus was spared of the handcuffs the other policeman had brought with him, but cupped a hand protectively on his injured crotch. Wendy could see that Dipper was crashing hard from whatever substance he had ingested, and while she rode home with him in the car, he had barely moved, a stark contrast to the yanking, pulling, and screaming at the restraints used on him hours before while in the throes of the drug and heat exhaustion. Perhaps it was the crash, or maybe physical exhaustion caused by his actions over the course of the last few days. Likely, a combination of both.

Dark bruises had fully formed over his body from Tim's beating, his black eye becoming even more pronounced, once the car pulled up to the Shack. The second officer helped Dipper stagger out and shepherd him to the door like a lost lamb. If Dipper had any apprehension, Wendy certainly couldn't see it. The first officer raised a large fist to knock hard on the door, and within seconds, Wendy heard fast footsteps arrive to respond.

"Dipper!" Mabel instantly hugged her haggard twin. "Oh God, please... don't _ever_ leave home again like that again!"

Neither Dipper nor the officers said anything while Mabel was tightly embracing her brother, returned standing. She pulled out of her own hug and took a good look at him. "Dip, where's your shirt? Why are there bruises everywhere? I-is that a black eye?! What are these marks on your neck and shoulders? Why are you bandaged up? Did someone beat you up?!"

"...It's a long story, Mabel..." Dipper mumbled hoarsely, ready fall asleep on his feet.

Stan appeared from another room, and hollered back to where he came. "Actually, Soos, call them back and say it's fine now. Dipper's home and safe." He took a glance at Dipper. "Yeesh. Worse for wear, but not dying, you know?"

Soos popped his head out to get himself a look at Dipper, then ducked back in. "I get it, Mr. Pines, sir."

The first officer nudged Dipper inside. "Have him get some rest." He said, "Kid's had a very busy time since yesterday. But we have some things we'd like to talk about with you guys."

Wendy eyed Mabel and frowned apologetically. "Sorry, Mabel... it's kinda... it's really gonna be tough to hear."

Mabel was going to mouth something questioning had it not been for Dipper draping himself around his sister, whimpering at her to please take him to bed. She couldn't refuse her twin of this simple request, taking the majority of her brother's paltry weight over her shoulders and leading him up to the attic. Dipper all but collapsed into bed the moment he reached his goal, and irretrievably dived into an inky black slumber at 8 in the evening.

Wendy was alone on her constant guard watch. The sky outside dimmed and cloaked the room in darkness, and Wendy was forced to turn on the lantern to keep her close observance. Dipper didn't move at the sudden light, too dead asleep to be stirred in the slightest. Eventually, Mabel found her way back up, deeply unhappy.

"How could he have done all of that to himself?" Mabel shook her head.

"Yeah, dude could've gotten seriously hurt."

Mabel pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, Wendy. Died. He could have died."

Wendy thought somberly. "Right. S'what I meant."

It was silent for the longest time. Neither had taken their gaze off of Dipper's prone, unconscious form, nor did they want to. "I should probably go to bed." Mabel finally muttered. "Tomorrow's gonna be rough. He's gonna need me."

Wendy smiled gently at her friend, quietly allowing Mabel to go get some rest. It turned out to be the longest night yet Wendy had to go through with Dipper, in the silent dark of the attic, safe and sound yet dangling above the gluttonous jaws of condemnation. She found herself using her powers to lift the blanket up and over Dipper completely, in a vain effort to protect him of what was to come.


	28. Chapter 28

Mabel had awoken early, around 4:30 am, and was unable to go back to sleep. Wendy was left alone with Dipper as Mabel, after her fitful tossing and turning, decided to start her day several hours early. She personally asked of Wendy to keep an eye on her brother without any of her usual chipperness, which deeply unnerved the ghost to hear.

Apparently, as the sun rose, Stan and Soos had similar bouts of insomnia, or maybe they were awake so early so as to prepare for something that Wendy could only guess at. She could swear that she heard Stan muttering at himself, wondering just how on earth he could have not seen this coming.

There was a violent thumping from downstairs. Wendy listened in to some muffled out conversation between some familiar voices before Stan's raised voice told these visitors to get lost. Mabel came up not too long after with a familiar pair of shoes and a shirt. It had to be Dipper's friends coming around to drop things off. Maybe explain themselves, possibly deny responsibility for Dipper's actions. Wendy peeked through the window to the van outside while it backed out and away from the Shack; She counted four people in the vehicle, so there was the small relief that Jenny was okay.

Mabel returned back down to Soos and Stan to continue on with formulating a plan of action none of them wanted to make. She eventually did come back up with a breakfast consisting solely of wet cereal, which she placed on Dipper's nightstand. Wendy let her work in silence as she gathered a clean set of clothes for her brother, then they both watched the young man as he slept like a rock.

Wendy and Mabel saw it eventually, however, the shift from under the blanket covers. It was weak and stopped as quickly as it had started. A pained moan rang out like a distant siren. Mabel moved forward and hesitantly pulled the layers of thick blanket from where she assumed Dipper's head was. He hissed, eyes constricting to a pinpoint as the bright morning light pierced though. Despite the leaden, achy weights his arms had become, he still forced one over his sensitive eyes. He let out a second moan at that.

"How're you feeling?" Mabel asked softly.

Dipper's voice came hoarse, and for the first time in what had to be forever, he coughed. "Terrible. Feel like roadkill. Everything hurts."

Mabel made a small noise, then moved to grab the giant bowl of what was now a soggy slop. "Eat this."

Dipper peeled his arm off his eyes. "Why?"

"Mom and Dad. They want us to have a conference call with Harrison. You need to get ready."

Dipper sat up, exposing the extensive areas of sunburn, explosive acne and bandages on his body in the process. Twin bruised, purple ribbons graced his neck and Wendy apologetically gawked at them; Tim had got him good.

Dipper gingerly took the bowl and spoon from his sister. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

When Mabel said nothing, instead looking at the floor, Dipper took this as a prompt to just eat in silence. Halfway into his meal, which he had taken slowly, biding his time and simultaneously treating his throttled up throat and aching skull with care, Mabel went to hand Dipper the folded pile of clothes. "Should probably shower when you're done eating. It's gonna be a video call."

He froze in his meal, massaged his tender neck, then continued in his mush drinking. The situation he was in was starting to piece itself together, yet whatever emotions Dipper may have otherwise felt were fried. When he ate the last of his cereal, Dipper handed the spoon and bowl to Mabel, willed himself upright despite the fire in his bones, and shambled to the bathroom. Mabel and Wendy's ghost followed up until he closed the door behind him for privacy. It was an awkward silence up until the two could hear the shower be turned on, at which point Wendy finally spoke.

"I didn't know this place got better Internet when I was gone." It was pointless chatter. "You know. 'Cause of the video call."

"Yeah." Mabel grunted. "Yeah, it's kinda a new thing up here..."

Silence returned, save for the shower; Wendy bit her lip nervously. "Mabel, I... uh... maybe this isn't going to be as bad as we're making it out to be." She mentally punched herself. "Not saying that it's not going to be bad, but you always like looking at the bright side, and I mean... Dipper may not summon me _now_ , but that doesn't mean he never will. He's a smart guy. Just making a lot of mistakes right now, you know?"

Wendy wouldn't have blamed Mabel if she reacted poorly to these forced words, but she wanted to put the sentiment of comfort out there, even if she believed none of it herself. Dipper was so troubled that he was rapidly losing control, and only managed to survive the past day as he had through dumb luck. If it not for Grenda, then, at best, Dipper would have woken up in a hospital by now. And Wendy wasn't going to lie to herself; At worst it would have been death.

Mabel smiled softly and acknowledged the attempt. "Thanks for trying, Wendy. I appreciate it."

"No sweat."

The two listened to Dipper's long shower. He was taking his sweet time, either forcing himself to look as clean and perfect as possible or was too exhausted to even try to scrub the detritus off his skin and was simply standing under the stream. Neither of the girls knew, and Wendy wasn't planning on phasing through the door anytime soon.

Eventually, the shower head went silent, but soon enough the sink faucet was turned on for an equally half-hearted round of teeth brushing and face washing. Once the faucet went dead, it was a painful cluster of minutes before Dipper braved to open the door and show his bleeding, whitehead eradicated face. He had taken off the bandages the nurse had put on him the day before, but didn't care enough to replace them. Long, shallow, ragged cuts grotesquely peppered his thin arms.

"Ready?"

"Almost. I don't want our parents to see all, well, this." Dipper motioned at his scratched and bruised arms and neck. "Can I get a flannel?" Mabel made a quick nod and momentarily vanished to retrieve a blue and white flannel, which Dipper tightly shrouded onto himself like a robe. "Thanks." Still, he looked bothered. "Uh... Mabel?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm... I'm really sorry." Dipper rubbed at his tender throat, but still his voice croaked. "About everything that happened, and especially for beating you up. I didn't... you're not too hurt by that, right?"

Mabel took the chance to lighten the mood, if only minutely. "T'was just a nosebleed, ole Dip! I'll be fine."

Dipper gave a tired smile back, knowing by his sister's tone that she had miraculously forgiven him. "Thanks, Mabel." He choked down his nervous swallow, and flipped his flannel collar up to try and cover up the wounds. "I guess it's time to face the music... smell the roses... meet my maker... uh..."

Dipper stopped himself from going any further, lest be accused of dragging his heels, not that Mabel would necessarily have done such a thing now in such sobering circumstances. Wendy lagged behind the twins, but stopped with them at the kitchen doorway.

Soos's voice broke through first. "I don't think it'll be too much trouble put in a new lock, Mr. and Mrs. Pines. It's just that Dipper's a really sweet guy. Feels really bad to have to do this to him."

"Still, Soos. My nephew has a point. I don't like it either, but it's for his own good if he's to stay put."

Dipper covered his mouth and wheezed his tenderized voice box into shape. It got the attention of the two men huddled around a laptop. By the stickers on the back, Wendy assumed it had to be Mabel's.

"Anyway, kid's here now. Should we go change the lock?"

"Please." A stern, male voice answered. Dipper's Dad.

"I just want my little Dippy be safe." A female voice agreed. Dipper's Mom. "The faster you can do it the better."

The two stood up and allowed Mabel and Dipper to take their place, then made their way upstairs. Wendy moved out of the way to let them pass through, then tentatively floated in once she and Mabel locked eyes and was given the visual go-ahead to sit in. 

She made her way over and got a clear look of the laptop monitor. The left video call window had two parents beyond exhaustion. Mrs. Pines looked beside herself in despair, recovering from a crying spell. Mr. Pines looked unshaven, which only added to his grizzled and annoyed demeanor. The right had a blonde, bespectacled man sitting in clothes too frumpy for his surroundings to be anything other than his home office. Wendy checked the time tucked away in the bottom corner, 9:35, before dialing herself backwards.

Dipper cleared his throat again. "...Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad. Hey, Harrison."

His Dad immediately pounced. "Don't you 'Hey' us, son! Do you even realize just how much you had us worried? Hell, after hearing about what you did your Mom and I are still...! I-I mean just look at yourself! She can't stop crying, Dipper! How could you?!" Dipper let his mouth hang ever so slightly open, groping his mind for any answer or consolation, while his father continued. "I'm taking several days off work just so I can pick you up Tuesday morning, Dipper. You blew any remaining trust we had in you for us to even consider having you taking the bus! Knowing you now you've turned into _this_ , you'd probably run off the first chance you get!"

The passive-aggressive jab ignited Mabel. "Dad, Dipper isn't going to run off again. Trust him!"

"No. Mabel... Dad has a point." Wendy could not believe how broken Dipper sounded just then. If there was any emotions he could possibly spare, it was the fear of himself, and hurt from his Dad's harsh words.

"We've talked to Stan and that big guy. They're busy fitting a lock to your bedroom. You're to not come down except for food and using the bathroom. And even then you are to be supervised at all times. If that doesn't tell you just how hard you blew it then I don't know what will!"

When the silence that followed failed to abate, Harrison toed his way in. "Now, Dipper. As you can probably tell, we're very concerned right now, and just want to keep you safe. Your behavior the last several days has been very alarming."

"I know." Dipper said quietly.

Harrison continued. "Now, do you remember what happened when you were gone?"

"Yeah. All of it."

"Would you like to tell us?"

Dipper pursed his lips and was hesitant to start until it became crystal clear that everyone was waiting on him. "Well, I hung out with my friends. We stayed at a motel for the night. Umm... really, not all that much until we came back for the festival."

"How can we trust that you didn't do anything bad to yourself there?" His Mom asked.

"Because, well, I guess you can't. Got drunk, smoked, uhh, stuff, and regretted it because I should know by now it gives me bad nightmares." Dipper let himself stay silent for his family, but nobody strayed from their hurtful glares toward him. "Anyway, Joey knew a guy that was at the festival who, you know, sold... other stuff. Bought it, took some, got high, did stuff. ...I remember that I thought running away with a new identity was a great idea."

"With your friends?" His Dad huffed.

"...Some of them."

His Mom made a venture. "Tim and Jenny? They're the two with the thing, right?"

"Yeah... though I guess not anymore." Dipper blushed, and looked down. "I... I may have lost my virginity with Jenny."

With that his parents exploded.

"You did what? With her?!"  
"God _damn it_ , Dipper!"  
"Did you at least wear a condom, honey?"  
"If you didn't I'm gonna murder you!"  
"Your Dad doesn't mean that!"  
"Your Mom doesn't mean that!"  
"Jacob..."  
" _Mary_...!"

"Mom, Dad, don't do this..." Dipper rubbed his face. "Don't fight. You've been doing that too much."

"Yeah. Ever since you became this... _thing_!" Mr. Pines spat.

"Mr. Pines, Mrs. Pines." Harrison interrupted. "Dipper has a point. Fighting like this is only going to exacerbate everyone's distress. Right now, we have to be supportive, and do what we think is best."

The more Wendy listened, the more she was made extremely uneasy. Harrison had quelled down the fight, but still the twins' parents fired shots at each other. She prayed that it wasn't all Dipper's doing that their relationship had gotten so strained that an unsaid possibility for "the best" included divorce. When he had completed his story, he massaged his bruised throat with both palms while his parents redirected their anger straight to him.

"Yeah, when the cops called to tell us you were found they mentioned how much you were yelling in the tent." Mr. Pines went flippant. "They told us what you decided to partake in. That was a *hard drug*. I'm surprised you didn't get yourself killed or sent to the ICU!"

Mrs. Pines spoke up with a softer but somehow more scathing tone. "Do you even _know_ what you took yesterday, Dipper?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean... It wasn't what I thought it was, but I really don't want to know. I have enough problems already."

Everyone silently agreed, Wendy included.

"I appreciate the insight." Harrison smiled germainely. "It's probably for the best you remain in the dark, at least for now." He didn't shift or show any hint that he was done speaking, and moments later, he carried the conversation further. Though... what I want to know, Dipper," Harrison mused. "What do you think the worst part of this whole experience was."

Wendy could tell Dipper was thinking though this question hard, glancing at Mabel and around the twin windows on the computer screen containing his parents and doctor. She knew that he knew just how badly he was hurting everyone and letting them down, but an odd twitch of remembrance buzzed in his pupils and his eyebrows followed suit.

"I sold her hat." He made his croaky answer. "I-I-I sold off Wendy's hat to the guy that I bought the drugs off of! That hat was all I had left of her and I just... oh my God!" Dipper was beyond disturbed, and held his head in his hands in a futile desperation to keep his mind hinged. He raised his tired voice, contorted by injury to a painful gravel. "I don't know where it is! It could be three states over by now! I-I was scared of the hat and let some creep take it. No wonder everything went to hell after that! Oh God, Wendy must be furious at me! That hat meant so much to her! It meant so much to me! And now it's gone forever and... and..."

He slumped over with an anti-climatic groan, his statement hanging in the air and fading like an ember. Mabel gave reassurance with a hand reaching around and softly rubbing her brother's distant shoulder. Wendy swallowed an impossible lump in her throat; Dipper really did care, and he really did hurt from his lapse in judgment.

"Really, Dipper?" His Dad slammed his hands on the table. "A hat?! That's all you care about? What about us? Your grades? Your future?!"

Dipper's voice came fatigued, whispery. "No, I do care, bu-"

"I know you miss her, but for God's sake, she is _not_ a ghost, and _nobody_ is going to keep encouraging you to believe that crap!"

Wendy could tell by Mabel's visible wince exactly who her Dad was referring to. Dipper appeared ashamed, and licked his lips to launch a rebuttal, though was unfortunately interrupted by his other greatest living ally.

"Still, it all points back to the original issue. Your son saw unspeakable things the day he lost his friend, and if you were him, with how intrusive the memory and imagery is, would you also want to avoid it at all costs, Mr. and Mrs. Pines?"

Mrs. Pines nodded profusely without much thought; Her husband took longer in thinking out the scenario before mumbling his reluctant approval.

"It's hard." Harrison nodded. "I think... I think I have an idea of what should be done at this point."

The entire family braced themselves. Wendy met Mabel's gaze, and Mabel met Dipper's. Dipper cleared his throat, though it did little to clear out the stinging grit.

"Just so you all know, I really am tired of the drinking and drugs and just... I'm skin and bones at this point. I went through very intense stuff yesterday, and several night before. Whatever's suggested I'll do it."

His mother would have reached over to hug her son if she could, while his father continued to make his disbelieving sneer.

"I think an in-patient drug treatment plan is in order. I'm hopeful; These programs have a high chance of working, and you're already very insightful of the negative impact of your use is having and being very agreeable for change, Dipper. I don't want to say it's guaranteed, but it'll definitely clear the way for more intensive work regarding the traumatic event and grief therein."

"Sure." Wendy could scarcely hear Dipper, and he clutched at his throat apologetically.

Harrison cleared his own throat and addressed Dipper's parents. "I can swing over and give you two some information packets personally, and we can discuss things further if you want."

Mrs. Pines nodded. "Absolutely."

"Y-yeah." Mr. Pines agreed.

The video call ended not too long after. Dipper was given words of encouragement by Harrison, and Wendy carefully observed from behind her charge while his parents heaped a diatribe on how much they loved him. Mr. Pines, who had been antagonistic, went soft as he began accepting Dipper's own shame at his state, going as far as to genuinely tell his son he loved him, and only wanted to see him well again. Dipper was left mute, voice box dead, and so resorted to gestures and Mabel to speak for him until his final wave goodbye.

He let Mabel lead him out of the kitchen, and Wendy followed suit. Soos and Stan had reached the bottom of the stairs leading up to the attic, and Stan handed Mabel a key.

"Make sure you use the key to lock up the door once he gets back up there. Should be able to lock it from both sides." Stan then turned to Dipper, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dipper, kid. I'm not gonna yammer on about how upset I am at you. You should already know just how stupid you've been acting and how much you've been worrying everyone. Hate to be harsh, but we're doing this for your own good. We'll check in on you a lot, though, in case you need anything."

Dipper, too tired to say anything, silently made the ascent to the attic slouched over himself. Stan offered one more sentiment.

"Just get well soon, kid, alright?"

Wendy turned to Mabel and pointed upward. Mabel nodded, and Wendy floated through the ceiling and to the room in question. Once he had cleared the attic doorway, it closed shut behind him. A key jimmied the lock into an active state, and the door was tested. It didn't give. The two let it sink in. Dipper was apathetic, but Wendy had a hard time believing that it had seriously come to this.

Wendy settled her spirit down next to Dipper while he sat on his bed, alone. He kept shivering, even though both the summer heat and the blanket he wrapped himself inside should have kept him warm. The flu-like symptoms mixed with the aches and pains to worsen that feeling of lethargy, and Dipper naturally laid himself down with the blanket covering his head, much like how he found himself as he came to that morning.

Wendy tossed a faint sentiment of good health to her friend.

"Dude, I sure hope you can get better without me."


	29. Stay sick

Sunday dragged on through, and so did Monday. Sunday had been a free day, so Mabel spent a good chunk of her time up in the attic with her wayward brother, offering him company and hot drinks to sooth a mangled larynx. She pulled up a number of board games for both of them to play, though Dipper chose to remain largely under the sheets minus an arm and part of his face while partaking in these little distractions.

Wendy allowed herself to roam freely about, outside and through town, to allow herself time to think. She wanted to scream. The situation was an absolute nightmare that she really wished she could wake up from. The helplessness she felt was too much, and she wanted an out herself, much like Dipper. Not one as severe as sitting at the cemetery and waiting for a Gravekeeper to come and take her away, but something that would erase this reality with anything else. Not even the "why not" choice to mess around with Robbie for those disgusting remarks helped to raise her spirits. It was fun to use her powers to make her ex almost wet himself in fright, but Wendy couldn't pretend that there was much point in doing that.

Dipper was more energetic on Monday, if his endless pacing about his cage clued Wendy in right. He seemed mostly recovered from what he had done throughout Saturday, and was now bored as sin and depressed as hell about being locked up. Wendy found Dipper cracking open his summer reading early on and getting a significant way through the novel. Dipper packed up the majority his things back into his rolling bag not too long after becoming bored from the book. He rooted around and came up with that old plush rabbit Wendy saw him toss aside when he first arrived. Dipper halfheartedly talked to this old toy about the situation he got himself into, voice still crackly but mending well given the abuse it had suffered. Wendy couldn't help thinking Dipper was deep in thought, and had no other options to occupy his time other than retreat inside himself, and go mad a little.

"I dunno, rabbit." Dipper chucked the toy upward several times, like a ball. "Maybe I just don't have any more self-respect to give. " Wendy waited for Dipper to continue his side of the conversation. "I can't. Much as I want to I shouldn't." Silence. "I want to try to deal with things clear-headed. Everyone's right. I have been making probably the worst decisions I have ever made in my life, and I need to not be messed up anymore if I want to, you know, live." Quiet. "Okay, you really suck, you know that?" Dipper went slightly irate. "Okay, that'll solve nothing, and you're getting stuffed into the bag."

The toy rabbit was chucked into the open maw of the rolling bag at the same time the lock on the door slid out of position. "Hey, bro. Who were you talking to?"

There was no pressuring lilt from Mabel's question, as though she came to accept Dipper wouldn't be talking to Wendy. Dipper decided on being honest with his situation.

"Oh, you know, just myself. Thinking out loud. ...Not going well."

Mabel quirked her head to the side. "What's wrong?"

"Eh..." Dipper's voice went gravelly before a cough set it back in place. "I don't know. You have to admit all of this has gotten really fucked up, to say the absolute least."

Mabel walked over to her brother to give a reassuring hug. "I know. It's kinda hard to believe."

Dipper reciprocated the hug. "I just don't know if I can deal with it anymore."

"You don't have to keep it all locked up in here, bro." Mabel let go to thump at her chest. "You can share the pain with us and let it out."

Dipper worried at his lower lip, and slowly turned away. "I don't know if I should, though. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"But you have. You know that, right?"

"...Yeah. I have. A lot. And I'm so, _so_ sorry putting you guys through all that." Dipper approached his bed and flopped down on it, and the twins went eerily silent before Dipper continued. "So, how're we gonna handle this fun rehab stuff? Guessing you'll be needed up here, now that both me and Soos are heading on out, unless Stan can find our replacements quickly."

"Dipper," Mabel began, smiling. "I'll fight Stan to the death to follow you back to Piedmont so I can be there. And if I can't, I'll call you so much it'll drive you crazy."

Dipper cracked a small grin. "Kinda got beat to the punch on the whole crazy part, Mabel, but I'd like that a lot."

"And even then," Mabel continued. "I'm sure Stan'll let me go back down for you anyway."

"He's gonna have to juggle a lot just to keep this place running..."

"Hey, it's not like he hasn't hired anyone just passing through before!"

"You have a point."

The two siblings sat there with a ghost over them, chatting with each other as the topic transformed to a much less heavy tone, although Dipper really appeared to Wendy as though he was putting in so much effort to not sound horribly depressed so as to keep the conversation light and easy. He was putting on a very brave face to Mabel, but Wendy could tell that Dipper, internally, was just barely holding it all together.

He was talking to a stuffed animal, after all.

Stan poked in head in at some point to announce holding a special barbeque for Dipper's last day, and the evening was spent with all three Pines outside in the sweet, summer air. Wendy was impressed that Dipper, even with the insurmountable future dead ahead of him and his recent stomach trouble, managed to eat more than a full meal, and shovel it down to boot. The return of a voracious appetite really delighted Mabel and Stan, and their happy faces and positive reinforcement brought a smile to Dipper's as he ate beyond his fill in potato salad.

The worry surged back in his body language as the evening progressed into night and the last of his belongings was stuffed into his rolling bag, save for an empty backpack that was cast on top. Dipper laid in bed with the pair of jeans he'd unintentionally been wearing for two days straight, and stared at the sloped ceiling even after nightfall made the attic a sea of black. Wendy floated about, herself staring at Dipper with a certain uneasiness. He had a lot of time to think over his situation, and he was giving blatant hints to Wendy's unseen specter on just how hopeful he was of any improvement.

The attic door once again opened up from the outside and Mabel's form slid through. "Woah! Dipper, are you asleep already?"

Dipper reached up to flip on a lantern light. "Nah, just thinking again."

"What? You mean like always?" Mabel forced a laugh out of herself.

"Yeah. Guess you can say that, Mabel." Dipper sighed.

"...Are you going to be okay?" The question cut through the tensed air.

"Y-Yeah. I think so."

Wendy watched on as Mabel forced out a tiny smile for her brother's sake and moved herself forward in turning in for the night, which ended for her by giving her brother a tight embrace and words of reassurance.

"It's been very hard on you Dip, but everyone will be there to help you get better."

Dipper was quickly left alone once more in the night with his twin sound asleep mere feet ahead of him, but Wendy caught that huge yawn escape his maw soon enough and, eventually, it was just Wendy's solitary ghost hovering about, lost in her own maze of thoughts. Dipper was going away with even less happiness than when he'd arrived, and Wendy saw him touch down with an absolute contempt. But now, he had lost all fighting spirit, now that his life not only caught up to him, but beat him into submission.

"Man..." She sighed. "I'm so sorry I couldn't help you out after all, Dipper. Tried my damnedest, dude, and I really wish I could have done more, take back things I did, or, I guess, didn't do... but I guess it just wasn't supposed to happen."

Wendy couldn't face Dipper after her self-rated lame reassurance, one that wouldn't even be heard anyway, and so she turned away to think things through some more. What was going to happen to Dipper once he left for home? What was going to happen to her now that she was going to be left to float around as a lost spirit? Wendy guessed that she could take her Mom's place as the protector of her family, bide her time, and pray that maybe, just maybe, one day Dipper would...

"Aagh! No!"

There was a sudden jump and frightful whine from the left bed. Wendy saw Dipper's wide eyes in the light of the full moon, glancing nervously across the ceiling. He sat up with an initial intensity that faded halfway through his rising and left him defeated, as though a realization kicked in, and he plopped back to bed supine. Dipper's breathing slowed, then quickened, then slowed artificially as he tried wrangling it in. The moonlight that shone strong on his face made him look sickly pale, and Wendy could tell just by the familiar look on his face and the concurrent, silent weeping what nightmarish memory Dipper must had relived yet again. He was keeping his sobbing controlled, contrasting how he must have been when her death was still a fresh, throbbing, open wound in his mind.

He stared into the sloped ceiling and snuffled some more until finally, Dipper sat up to turn on the lantern. The light and his sudden, husky words jolted his sister from sleep.

"Hey, Mabel."

"Mmmrunh?"

"I have to go use the bathroom." Wendy could see the spasmodic hitch burst from her friend's chest.

Mabel, eyes closed and too half-asleep to hear any subtle noises, shooed Waddles off of her to fish out the key from the pocket of her pajama pants. She gave it to Dipper. "Make sure you come back." She mumbled.

"You're not going to follow?"

"Nuhh... I can trust you."

Dipper took the key from his sister, then unlocked the attic door to go downstairs. Wendy, initially unsure of Dipper's intentions, followed him down and into the bathroom, where she quickly learned by the hiking down of pants that he really did need to go. Wendy closed her eyes tightly and moved backwards, out of the bathroom, where she then made her return up to the attic. Mabel had already fallen back asleep, the allure of dream reality too powerful to resist, with her pet pig already back on top of her lap.

Frankly, Wendy couldn't blame Mabel, especially for these last few days. Even with Wendy's help, taking care of and protecting Dipper from himself was too tall and too draining of a task, and the now apparent failure of convincing him to take the action needed to finally get a clear conscious weighed both her and Mabel down. From what she gathered from the talk and everything after, she knew that having more intensive, professional help would be of little use to Dipper, despite being so tired of everything to the point of compliance about following through.

It made her think, though. Perhaps Dipper could push himself through another year, and maybe, with enough hard work in regaining everyone's trust, could return to Gravity Falls and get the job done. Wendy wondered what this hypothetical future Dipper would be like; Obviously, normal, geeky Dipper was out of the question. At best, Wendy regretted, he'd still be an empty shell on semi-permament damage control, irreversibly changed. Would forgiveness even do much then? Wendy slapped herself. Of course it would, but between everything that happened and the world to come, perhaps receiving Wendy's grace would do too little, too late.

For a split second, the room wobbled as though it was water. A deep pit carved into her stomach, and she knew by instinct what was responsible for this.

"Look, dude. Just go away." Wendy had her back turned from the window, arms crossed and shoulder hunched. "I know what you want, but just... I dunno. Not in the mood or whatever. Leave me alone."

Wendy's short speech to the Gravekeeper stirred Mabel just the tiniest bit, causing Waddles to snap awake and hop clumsily to the floor. The sudden, small thud surprised Wendy. An errant, paranoid instinct in her mind was convinced the Gravekeeper had broken its way in, and she looked over her shoulder as a reflex. There was a massive flash of resplendent, colorful light that invaded her senses. To Wendy, it lasted only a second, but when she blinked her vision back and glanced at the clock, she knew just how much time had really transpired. One hour. She looked at Dipper's bed, and her heart raced.

He was not there.

He was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get well


	30. End of All Your Dreams

Wendy couldn't help but think what the Gravekeeper had planned for her to keep her in that vision of light for so long. She almost yelled at Mabel right then, to alarm her of Dipper's failure to return, but remembered that the panic wouldn't do any good if Dipper hadn't actually left, and was watching TV, hanging out in the kitchen or was still in the bathroom for whatever reason. After she had carefully peeked in the bathroom and done a once-over of the rest of the Shack and found no evidence of him did Wendy start to dread over the possibilities. She failed to find his backpack too when she returned upstairs. Dipper had really left. Wendy did not want to think of the thought that Dipper had run away again; Hers and everyone's trust in him was on such thin ice as it was.

"Mabel, wake up!" Wendy had yelled straight into her friend's ear. "Dipper's gone!"

Mabel shot awake, startled by the wake-up call. "Wha?! What's happening?!"

"Dipper's gone, Mabel! He took his backpack with him. I-" Wendy saw a greater fervor in Mabel than she had ever seen. She had already put on a pair of shoes and grabbed a flashlight despite her terror. "Wait, Mabel!" 

"What?!" Mabel snapped, frightened. Both could hear a commotion from another room, downstairs. "Why didn't you-?!"

"I'm gonna be quick but honest with you: A Gravekeeper. It used one of its mind tricks again. It was an hour ago. H-He's been gone for an hour at most." Wendy flitted about the room. "We need to think of a plan. We can't just rush into this. We could use Stan's help, bu-"

"Stan. Got it. Go Wendy!" Mabel ordered. "Find him!"

"I-I will!"

Simultaneously, Stan's head popped up from the stairs. "Dipper's gone, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

Stan slammed a hand against a step. "Kid's gonna give me a heart attack at this rate! Quick, Mabel, look around and see if he took anything with him before you go out looking for him!"

Wendy backed herself out of the ensuing chaos and into the elements. She had a good feeling of what direction Dipper most likely could have gone in, but still, she spun around, herself too unsure of her instincts to commit to a specific direction.

"Oh no, he _didn't_! Shit!"

Stan's yell came loud, even for him. Something in his voice indicated that something was gravely wrong, and the urgency forced Wendy to go for her gut and zoom off into the woods, following the trail that led straight to the tree house. Even in the deep dark, she swore she spotted a familiar pair of shoes left in a pile of itself just off the trail. She stopped to gawk at the oddity, wondering if it had a deeper meaning or if it was simply serving as a distraction, along with the flannel that had been also left behind, purposefully tattered up to add more to the sight. The diversion.

At that revelation, Wendy continued forth, making her turn off of the trail, ignoring branches and bushes as she phased through. She found a beam of light up ahead, undoubtedly Dipper's, and as she got closer she noted that he was still in his same shirt, pants, and now soggy socks as he had been when he left for the bathroom.

He had stopped in front of the tree in thought, much like the many other instances before where he was unsure of whether or not he wanted to go through with something. Once he took off and tossed away his dirty socks, Dipper climbed up the rope ladder as though he was a machine. His expression didn't change, even when he made the final scramble onto the platform, turned on the lantern and sat there. Once he took off his backpack, he made his move towards the cooler. Wendy's heart sank; Did he really lie about wanting to kick these habits in front of his own family? Did he really mean to quit, but just couldn't handle the withdrawal any further? He was awfully agitated the past day.

But Dipper surprised her. He picked through every bottle and container he had, and one by one he chucked them overboard. The plastic bottles that made up his cough syrup supply, from the expired to the ones he'd just bought made their dull rustles and thuds, and the glass bottle of whiskey audibly shattered as it hit a stony pile.

"Oh my God, yes! He's being serious about this! He-"

Wendy tensed. There, on a branch several trees over, perched a Gravekeeper. Wendy knew by instinct it had been the one that had just stunned her. She couldn't make out anything but its three glowing eyes and its foreboding silhouette in the moonlight. Its pupiled eyes twitched and stared directly at Wendy, and she could feel herself temporarily freeze in place like prey. Wendy both wanted to and rejected the idea of running. This Gravekeeper would be the death of her if she stuck around, but as her muscles began to respond, Wendy had a sick feeling in her stomach churn and implore her to stay. In an odd way, she was paralyzed. However, the look the demon was giving, it was completely uninterested in the jail-broken ghost, and by careful observation Wendy saw it had slowly refocused its gaze and interest to the other living, sentient being within the scene.

Dipper stopped when he pulled out the last bottle. It was some cheap beer that Robbie had smuggled into the cooler several nights back. Once the bottle was opened and twist off cap flung into the darkness, he held it aloft in a defeated show of cheers and chugged it all in one jagged motion. Once he was done he threw the bottle carelessly into the woods, and sat back down near the center of the hideout to burp out the bloat. The whole sequence felt off and its wrongness clawed and keened for a recognition Wendy could not figure out.

She witnessed Dipper pulling out his phone from his pocket, and he stared mindlessly at the screen before punching in the unlock code and making a break for the video function. He pressed record, then placed the phone screen up on the floor. This behavior was confounding, and Wendy was left to wonder in the brief silence just why Dipper had done that, and why the Gravekeeper, the very bane of Wendy's existence, was more interested in him than her. And then, Dipper belched, cleared his throat, took two slow, deep breaths, and began to speak.

"Hello. My name is Dipper Pines. I'm recording this because I want to... th-that is, I want the people hearing this to know..." Dipper trailed off, but forced himself to simply say what he was thinking anyway, "I want them to know that I give up trying to fight my way through dealing with what I had seen in the accident, and I give up in making myself too high to remember that day and hurting everyone in the process." Dipper paused, thinking, remembering, continuing, "So that's why I've decided to..." He gulped, and reached into his near-empty backpack. "I've decided to shoot myself. Point blank. I-In the head."

Wendy caught the glint of the metallic weapon as Dipper reluctantly pulled it out of his bag, eyes widening and mind freezing as this odd behavior turned putridly grim on a dime. Dipper had come here to the tree house, in pure isolation to kill himself. Wendy could only wish she could refuse that this was happening, but it was.

Dipper.

With a gun.

That he had to have gotten from somewhere in the Shack.

Ready to pull the trigger.

On himself.

"Dipper, no! Just what do you think you're doing?" Wendy yelled at her friend, not wanting to remember that he couldn't hear her. "This isn't going to solve anything, dude! You're just going to hurt everyone in the worst way possible!"

"I don't want to do this." Dipper continued. "I mean, I want to, but I'm scared. There are... numerous ideologies on what the afterlife entails, though they're... pretty much whittled down to oblivion and hell when it comes to... this kind of death. But at the same time, I need to forget. To anyone that's listening to this recording, just try to imagine seeing what I've seen: A bloody, mangled up body of a friend that you try your hardest to save. Getting their blood all over your body and clothes. Having them go into shock in front of your eyes, and no matter what you do you just end up making everything worse!" Dipper was breathing heavily while the memory coursed through his mind. Leg bouncing, he compulsively reached into his pocket to fish out a single bullet. "I'm sorry. I don't want to do this. I don't want to hurt anyone when I say I need to do this. But I just don't want to remember that ever again, and if I have to shoot myself for it to stop, then fine!"

Dipper opened the gun cylinder and shakily inserted his only bullet into the top chamber, then pushed it back into place. He took this time to study the weapon, and found a tiny switch near the back. He gulped, and took a deep breath.

"Once I end this recording, I'm going to turn off the safety on this thing. That's how these things work, right? Turning off the safety allows it to shoot, right?" Dipper thought in silence, piecing together the facts laid out before him. "Yeah, I think that's how it works." He took a breath through his nose. "Anyway, I just want to say how sorry I am that I'm doing this. Stan, Mabel, Soos, Mom, Dad -- everyone, really -- just know that I'm doing this out of my own volition. This isn't anyone's fault but my own. Even if I didn't steal this gun, I'd probably would have tried finding a rope or pills or... something. Maybe I should have thought of those options a bit more before leaving with this gun. So, uh... sorry about my lack of forethought."

Dipper drummed his fingers and momentarily refused to go any further in his note, and maybe even with the suicide itself. Though, the effects of the beer started to work on an empty stomach, and with this fuel, Dipper soldiered forth.

"I'm gonna say this now, but I knew I'd probably get scared and hesitate and possibly not go through with this and make an ass out of myself, so I had one last drink before I hit record on this." Dipper leaned in close to his phone. "But anyway, some final instructions: umm... uh," Dipper brushed his fingers through his hair. "Don't really have any, really. I've got nothing. Maybe just don't be too hard on yourselves for this. Don't get in the same mess I did mourning for me. I have to do this for myself, and for my peace of mind. I... I think I'm ready to go. ...I'm gonna do it now. Goodbye. ...I love you guys."

Dipper poked the phone's screen back on and ended the recording. As he promised, he switched the safety off, but remained seated, studying the gun even further. Wendy felt false relief when Dipper turned the safety back on, but those feelings were quickly dashed when it was just to pull back the hammer without the gun accidentally going off. Dipper placed the gun down in front of him, and stared the weapon down with a look in his eyes that Wendy could only read as complete dread.

"Oh my God, I can't do this. This is going to fix nothing. This is just going to create even more problems. There has to be a better way."

Wendy simply couldn't let herself breathe a sigh of relief; By the time she considered such an action Dipper heaved a defeated sigh and swerved back onto the path of self-destruction.

"But man... just look at yourself. You're a wreck, and you create more and more problems for yourself. You can't even think straight anymore."

He scoffed and mocked himself with the lightest of grins.

"Guess this is why you're here now, huh?"

The gun was picked up once more.

"Well, okay. This is it." Dipper quaveringly mumbled to himself. "Hold the gun, put it to your head, then squeeze the trigger. If it goes right, it'll... all be over. It'll all be okay, man." His voice cracked upward. "It's just the end of your world you're looking at here."

Dipper lowered his head.

"It'll soon be okay."

The hand that held his stolen gun shuddered, his free hand went to grasp the front of his shirt, and fat tears rolled down his face.

"I'm so sorry you'll have to see this first, Mabel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Self Destruct


	31. Keep on

"Dipper... oh God, please listen to yourself!"

She looked back at the Gravekeeper, who itself was still staring at Dipper, waiting patiently for the moment he would make his self-inflicted departure from the world so it could take his soul to its eternal punishment. It glanced at Wendy momentarily to give a sick grin, amused at the morbid situation it had created for her. Saving Dipper would mean leaving herself wide open to be captured and dragged away herself. And who knows what would happen after that. But staying put would mean having to watch Dipper...

It would mean Dipper...

Mabel would find...

That was that. Wendy knew that she had to do something immediately, regardless of what may happen to her. She made the most intense glare she could conjure up right back at the Gravekeeper, and defiantly zoomed forward, towards her friend. He had since chosen to put the gun's muzzle just above his ear, and had closed his eyes for focus. Wendy remembered Dipper's vocalized thought process and used this information to flip on the safety with her psychic abilities. It had come not a moment too soon. Dipper lightly bit at his tongue whilst he squeezed the trigger. Or, rather, tried to. His eyes shot open when he felt the trigger resist, and he looked at the gun. He noticed right away what was wrong.

"Wait, what?" Dipper fiddled with the switch, snapping it to and fro before switching it back off. "I remember turning this off."

She had nothing to lose at this juncture. Wendy gave up all pretense, and, as Dipper watched on, flipped the switch again. Dipper's eyes went wide and Wendy could feel in the atmosphere his heart skipping a couple beats. She checked on the monster, certain it was feet, if not inches away from her, talons ablaze and her fate sealed. She couldn't lie to herself; She was terrified shitless having herself this open in front of these things. Wendy had no idea, then, when the Gravekeeper had kept its distance, still grinning, but with a much less malicious look on its face. It was almost...

...friendly-looking.

"Wendy?"

She snapped her attention back to Dipper. He was still holding the gun, almost to the hideout's floor, looking around, nose slightly upward, eyes glistening. "Are you... here with me?" While Dipper still was in absolute position to shoot himself, Wendy could tell that he was going to listen and not lose his mind. This was the psychological in she was waiting for. "Wendy, i-if it's really you, if you're really here. Please. I want you to give me a sign."

Those were the words Wendy was dying to hear. She went to the small bag Mabel had left behind and psychically pulled out the board that'd been brought up. It was lightly lobbed over and the two heard the skittering of wood on wood as it skipped across the floorboards to Dipper's knees. Dipper stared at the thing, taking in the last few seconds, replaying them in his mind.

"This-- you... you *want* to talk to me ... and *I*... I really want to talk to you."

Dipper repeated himself multiple times, stressing different words as though he needed to conceptualize the very notion, not of him wanting to talk to his dead friend, but of his dead friend wanting to talk to him. It was an idea that he had rarely, if ever, thought about, and Wendy gave him a minute to wonder aloud, before he finally put the gun down to go rummage in the bag for the other supplies. He gasped quietly when he pulled out Wendy's hat, and almost lost his remaining composure right there. There was no conceivable way that her hat could have made it back here by itself. Even with the weak static clouding his mind Dipper knew that.

"Oh my God, oh my God..." He hugged the hat to his chest lovingly. "It's here. You got it back didn't you, Wendy? B-because there's no w... oh, Wendy, I'm so sorry I did that. Thank you..."

Once the revelry passed, the objects were placed around the board carefully: the small notebook placed on top of the ancient board, a compass to the left, and her hat positioned in front. Wendy wasn't sure if this was part of the ritual, but they were spread about so evenly and reverently that she couldn't help but guess that if it wasn't prescribed, it had to be out of a show of respect.

She noticed, for the first time, of all of the ciphers and ancient symbols that dotted the thin piece of wood, a forgotten alphabet by an extinct people. Dipper used the compass to reposition the entire setup ever so slightly clockwise, so that the needle pointed directly north. Wendy took this time to move in front of Dipper, positioning her ghost to sit cross legged, arms width away from her hat. The Gravekeeper didn't seem piqued by Wendy leaving herself this wide open, and for once, she began to relax in front of it. Dipper then picked up the notebook, and slowly flipped through the pages, until he stopped at the page he wanted. He read its words over and over, before placing the notebook down where he could still see them for reference.

Dipper started the ritual. He put the compass at the very top of the board, its needle pointing true north. He folded his hands as though beginning a prayer, having them hover over the board for the longest time before gingerly touching his fingertips to the board.

"I, Dipper Pines, beseech the gods of the afterlife, to heed my request." Dipper moved the compass downward, until the needle pointed at a specific symbol. "I wish to talk to one of yours." He moved the compass carefully, methodically over various characters of some forgotten alphabet, trying his hardest not to tremble too off-course. "These symbols that I have shown to you, that I have prescribed personal meaning to, spell out the name of this foregone soul in this foregone language."

Dipper's voice wavered, and he stopped in his place. Wendy knew he had to be having second thoughts. His fears were starting to get the better of him, as much as he was trying desperately to fight them back. He screwed his eyes shut for several seconds, swallowed a heavy lump in his throat, and swung a mighty broadsword through his fears.

"With these words, and with this object that symbolizes our deep connection for each other, summon unto me the spirit of Wendy Corduroy!"

A sharp, cold wind blew into Wendy's ghostly form and into Dipper's face. It had been intense and dry, so much so that Dipper shielded his eyes with the crook of his arm. For the longest time, he remained there, shivering, unsure if he should lower his arm and see if the spell had worked. Unsure of what version of Wendy he might see. Wendy, as concerned as she was for her friend, didn't want to wait for him, and playfully leaned in close to his ear.

"Boo."

Dipper jumped and despite sitting had almost lost his balance. He threw both arms backwards to catch himself, and with this action, saw her. His breath was fast, first from the startlement, but as that quickly wore off, his fast breathing became attributed to emotions being strung sky high, evidenced by his eyes, glittering hard in the moonlight until they spilled tears.

"Wendy. It's really you!" Dipper choked.

"Yep, dude. It's really me." Wendy couldn't help but have a grin bubble across her face.

"Your body. It's not... m-mangled. It's normal!"

"Well, duh. Doesn't it say in there that you'd be able to see me the way you most want me to be seen?"

"I... I thought that maybe..." Dipper quickly looked down, "That maybe deep down, I'd want to see the you I saw the day you died. You know, if my conscious wasn't messed up enough as it is."

Wendy could tell by the look Dipper was giving that the memory was flashing before him, and when he subconsciously reached over to trail his finger across the gun Wendy had to interrupt as though, if she hesitated, Dipper might act out on a buzzed impulse.

"Dipper, I wouldn't even think about doing that." Her commanding voice flagged and cracked ever so slightly.

"But it's getting really hard *not* to think about it. It's kinda like that thing about the white bear, but add the fact that this bear is also real and starving and chose you as its target." Dipper placed a hand on his head. "Man, my analogies no longer make any sense."

"Nah, I get what you're saying. But still, don't do it. Please." Wendy couldn't figure out when she started feeling so afraid of and for her friend, who was gazing at the most dangerous thing in his world, poorly hiding his longing. "I'm gonna tell you this right now: killing yourself isn't going to solve anything. Hell, dude, I've spoken to other ghosts ever since your sister brought me back like this, and if I get this correctly, nobody who kills themselves are ever able to come back as a ghost? Like, their soul gets dragged off by a demon to whatever or hell or nothing or..." Wendy recognized her babbling and reigned herself in. "J-just trust me on this, Dipper. Whatever it is, it really isn't pleasant in any sense of the word. So don't."

Wendy waited for some sort of response from Dipper, and she almost took control of the gun as Dipper reached over and grabbed it. "DON'T-" He opened up the cylinder, and shook the bullet out into a waiting hand to put back in his pocket.

"I think I get what you're trying to say. You're saying that there's a supernatural kind of punishment in store for me if I shoot myself. So I won't. At least, not now."

Wendy felt a small weight lift from her shoulders, though the heaviness from the situation remained, compounded by Dipper's still ambivalent feelings towards the prospect of his own demise.

"Not now?" Wendy repeated those last words. "Dude, not ever." She tried to remain emotionless, failing miserably as anger and despair mixed together. "Why are you still thinking that killing yourself could, in any way, be a good idea? What about your family?! Or your friends? Your *real* friends? Seriously?! Tell me *why*, Dipper!"

Dipper had been taken aback by this. He had been expecting an outburst, but not like this. Wendy could feel Dipper's guilt going into overdrive and effectively kickstarting her own. The anger that had crept up on her made several giant steps back as she recalled that directing anger at Dipper was the last thing she should have been doing in his crisised mental state. Before she could apologize, though, Dipper, looking down and away and curling up into himself, answered bitterly.

"If Mabel had brought you here, you likely have been following me. And that weird feeling I got in my head sometimes... hav-were you looking into my mind?"

Wendy thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Can't say that I haven't."

Dipper slowly nodded, understanding his experience wholly now. "Then you should know why, Wendy."

Wendy wanted to stay quiet and let Dipper fill in the words for her, but as seconds started to wax near into a minute, she realized he was waiting for her. "You want to forget seeing me die, is that right?"

Dipper nodded again. "It's too much to handle." He pulled his knees up to his chin. "And I don't think I can ruin my body like how you've probably seen me ruin it anymore."

"With the alcohol and dex?"

"Yeah. I hated feeling too nauseous to eat. If anything, that made today probably the best day I've had in a while, you know?"

"Dude, you wolfed down so much of that potato salad you looked like a chipmunk."

Wendy laughed at the imagery, while Dipper had only managed to crack a smile.

"Yeah, Mabel was absolutely right about it. Sure was amazing potato salad." He pulled he knees up further, up to his forehead.

"Dude, Dipper, what's up?" Silence. "What are you thinking, man?" A choked sob. "C'mon, speak to me." Dipper further retreated into his ball. "Dipper, please. Don't do this. Tell me what you're thinking."

"You blame me, right? About your death?" Dipper whimpered.

"Dipper, I'll only give you the answer if you look at me. I-I don't know why, but it just feels important to me that you do that. Though... look, I get you've been through a lot, especially after staring Death in the face just now, so if you need to cry that stuff out right now, you can absolutely do that. Not gonna judge you on that. I can wait, you know?"

It was as though Dipper was waiting for permission to let everything out, and began sobbing loudly, his wails echoing across the trees in such a manner that, somewhere in the distance, Wendy was certain Mabel would be able to hear him. Wendy turned back towards where she had last seen the Gravekeeper, and as she expected, it had gotten closer. What she didn't expect, though, was it's face; it had become natural. It was still noseless, but its features were very human, and it looked curious. Its third eye was starting to flash wildly, flooding Wendy's vision in blinding white and the vaguest swirls of color. The colors grew in intensity, but remained without form and twisted themselves into odd directions. Dipper's howling cries became muffled, as though Wendy had gone underwater, and, realizing this, she spun back in a panic back to Dipper. The strange light and colors faded away, and the world she knew returned to clarity.

Somehow, more than several minutes had passed, as Dipper's sobbing had passed its zenith, and was winding down. Soon enough, he was left sitting there, double-breathing, hiccuping, sniffling. He scrubbed at his eyes with an arm, and snuffled up excess mucus the best he could, though still ended up using his shirt collar to wipe away the remnant.

"Oh my God..." He started to simper once more. "I could have done such a really terrible thing to Mabel." Dipper buried his face into his hands and broke again.

"Dipper," Wendy soothed. "Hey, it's over now, right? You don't want to shoot yourself anymore?"

"Dep-I, uh" Dipper wobbled towards a more acceptable and cautious answer. "No. Not anymore."

Wendy wanted to question Dipper on that, but decided against it. It wouldn't have done much good, she thought. "Alright, that's good. Believe that you'll see Mabel again, okay? She's going to see you alive and your family will do whatever they can to help you start feeling better, alright?"

Dipper nodded and wiped his face. "Okay."

"So, ready for my answer?"

Once he felt good and ready, Dipper looked up toward Wendy.

"Sure, why not? I did everything wrong trying to save you. I wouldn't be surprised if you're totally livid I was responsible for your death."

Wendy put on a true smile for her friend. "Dude, does it look like that? After all I just told you?" Their eyes met. Dipper could see the genuineness of that statement in the eyes of Wendy's spirit. "I'm actually mad at those people who were there that didn't help. I mean seriously, I get that not everyone wants to risk everything, but at least one of them could have tried! You literally didn't care that you could have died when you pulled me out of there. Like, think about it. My car could have exploded at any moment. I'm not sure how bad car explosions can get, but if you were there with me and that happened, you could have gotten seriously hurt or killed! So seriously, Dipper, thank you for all of that! And thank you for trying to keep me alive. I don't care if you made some fuck ups, dude. Your heart was in the right place and I'm really glad I have you as a friend."

Dipper's eyes widened and once more his emotions wrasseled themselves out of his control. He was crying again, but whereas the last time he had done so in a vain attempt to remove his pain, this time it was an effortless sieving of the thick, tarry guilt he had harbored for so long. He quieted his tears quickly, but even then, Wendy could feel those chains that had weighed him down finally snapping. That shell of a person she had grown to hate shattered away to billions of irretrievable fragments. Dipper was in bliss, smiling ear to ear and laughing so purely. It made Wendy get emotional herself, nitrous falling and wisping away from her cheeks, seeing Dipper so authentically happy. Just by simply knowing that she hadn't damned him. She thanked him.

"Wendy! Oh God, Wendy. You can't believe just how... I-I mean I'm just so happy! Just, thank you! It's like... it's like I can..."

Wendy suggested. "Like you can begin to move on and live again and stuff?"

Dipper nodded violently, reveling at the thought of returning to the world after being effectively comatose for so long. He was conscious, could move around and interact lifelessly, but the epiphany had truly woke him up. He couldn't help but impulsively reach over to give Wendy a tight hug, only to fall face first past her ghost and thus ground himself closer to reality. He sat back up, bliss dying down to a manageable reflection.

"Forgot that I can't really do that..."

Dipper stared into the eyes of Wendy's spirit, and she looked back, both wistful and longing. Wendy was ready to offer a suggestion of just how they could possibly manage such an action to Dipper; even if it didn't work the way she intended, they would have still tried. She opened her mouth, ready to speak.

Dipper had cut in to interrupt her. "Wendy..." He was looking past her ghost now, pointing uneasily at what he was staring. "What's that thing?"

Wendy wanted to turn in a way where she could float alongside Dipper and witness what he was seeing. She chilled when she could feel a scaly hand grasp her wrist. She couldn't do more but turn around in front of Dipper, and she met face-to-face with the Gravekeeper. Its appearance had changed entirely, and the only way she could tell its identity was of pure intuition. Its face was entirely human, features soft and welcoming. The talons that were its hands had transformed into grotesque but still irrefutably human fingers. Its darker feathers had gone lighter; they weren't quite the perfect white of its wings, but they no longer inspired fear. Wendy wasn't paralyzed by its gaze anymore, and also didn't feel the urge to run. She looked back at Dipper, whose curiosity had began to transform into anxiety. She needed to be honest with him now. She knew there wasn't much time.

"My Mom called these Gravekeepers. At least, before one of them finally got to her and... took her away. Down there."

"Wait, are these the demons you mentioned earlier?"

"Yeah. But I've never seen one so friendly before. It's freaky."

"But wait! What does that mean?!" Dipper was connecting the facts quickly.

At once, the Gravekeeper used his free hand, and waved it to its side. Its massive wings puffed outward, and out of nowhere, conjured up a portal of white and pastel blue.

"I guess it means it's game over for me." Wendy said wistfully.

Dipper couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What? No! I can't...! You shouldn't! I...You gotta fight it and run!"

Wendy turned to Dipper and smiled softly. "It's weird, but I kinda don't want to. I...I can't explain it, but this feels different. Like I can trust this guy. Besides, I've seen the portal they used on my Mom." Her voice wavered. "It was black and red. It was like this pure evil thing. But just look at this one. How can I say no?"

Dipper appeared to understand that maybe Wendy didn't have all the facts, but one piece of logic remained a constant. "But won't that mean you'll be gone forever?! You gotta stay, Wendy! Please! It has to be a trap!" Dipper's hands tried its hardest to grasp at his friend, but every single one of his swipes rushed past Wendy's ghost. "I don't want to lose you again!"

Wendy glanced over to the Gravekeeper; It looked like it was willing to wait. "Dipper, I understand. We've just met back up and now I'm going to be gone again. But dude, it's okay. I'm gonna be okay. Hate to say a cliche, but my work here's done. You're gonna start healing. And think about it. It probably gets really depressing wandering around the world as a ghost for all eternity. Friends and family die, they may or may not come back as a ghost, and even then, from personal experience following you around, there's only so much of the world ghosts can possibly go before they can't anymore. You understand, right?"

"...Yeah." Dipper sighed. "I do. I think so. But still. I-I'm gonna miss you."

"I'm gonna miss you too, Dipper." Nitrous.

"But, it's for the best, right?" Liquid.

"I think so."

The two friends were in silence. Neither wanted to say goodbye, but Wendy's growing urge to enter into the portal of light was becoming too much to ignore. There was very little time left.

"Hey Dipper?"

"Yeah?"

Wendy picked up her old hat and plopped it onto Dipper's head as her last telekinetic act. "If you ever give away my hat again, it'd better be a gift to your kids or something. Because, dude, I *will* find a way to come back and haunt you for the rest of your life if you give it away to another jerk." Wendy snickered.

Dipper couldn't help himself; He laughed while he secured the hat onto his head. "I'll be sure to remember that, Wendy. Thank you."

"No problem." Wendy finally turned to the Gravekeeper. "So, I think I'm ready now. Let's go."

The Gravekeeper understood this request, and gently tugged at Wendy's wrist again, beckoning her to follow. She did, but turned back to Dipper once more.

"Seeya, dude!"

Dipper's eyes were wet. Of course he was sad that his friend was going away forever, and no matter what, he would always remember the gruesome details of the accident and her subsequent death. It was something that he'd always need to work through. But he was no longer filled with guilt, and maybe that would make the rest of his healing easier. He wiped away tears with one arm, and waved with the other.

"Goodbye, Wendy."

As she went from one realm into another, the world containing her friend became smaller, and smaller. Wendy used her free arm to wave back to Dipper before he too disappeared. When he did, Wendy turned around, and transcended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming home


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I watched the finale and you can damn well be certain I shrieked internally when Wendy gave Dipper her hat. Ultimate form of friendship achieved!
> 
> Also you'd be damned well certain that my "future canon, future schmanon" tag is in full effect now.
> 
> In any case, I was worried to death that this would be a craptastic ending after all I built up, but, ultimately, these final two chapters are going to be released as they are, more or less. I'd absolutely love to write an alternate ending as its own separate thing, though, because, to be fair, I'm really interested in making such a fic, you know what I'm saying?
> 
> Anyway, onto the beginning of the end!

When she had entered into the light, Wendy was once again surrounded in a sea of white and cross-dimensional colors that did nothing more than swim in, out, and around this odd realm. Sounds were blurry, and made no sense in their disjointed patterns. It was confusing; Wendy had entered the portal expecting an overwhelming bliss take over her, yet she was floating here, in pure light, with colors and noises in every direction, alone and deeply disturbed.

Sounds eventually did break through, clearer than the rest, but still engulfed in its static. They were sweet sounds, the notes of some melody that, as it droned, was met with two metronomes. One was a chirping bird going on and on with an eternal call. The other was a crank, moving at a constant pace and never deviating from its timed cycles. A new sound poked out, one that sounded like a crackle. The song faded out, and it took the light with it, leaving Wendy in a world of black with these two sounds to keep Wendy company. She was now really confused, and started to become deathly afraid.

"H-hello?"

Wendy reached out into the abyss, and the abyss failed to answer back anything different than the chirps and airy, cyclical cranking. Those two noises droned onward towards an endless horizon, neither overtaking the other. It was driving Wendy mad. She dared to move forward, deep into this formless world, but as she did her spiritual body refused to respond to any other movement. Her legs didn't drag backward from sailing forward, and her arms remained to her sides, restrained by some otherworldly force. Maybe it was still the Gravekeeper that was holding her down. Wendy couldn't tell; even with the dark and subtle patterns of color tracking across her vision she couldn't see anything.

A clear, crashing bang triggered something horrible in Wendy's mind. She had been tricked by the Gravekeeper, and now she was caged in a strange void! Terrible regret grabbed onto her and dragged Wendy down into despair. Dipper flashed in front of her. Part of a memory she had somehow forgotten when she entered the light. He was at peace, waving goodbye to her. Then, his eyes widened in endless terror. He saw something Wendy hadn't, and it shook him to the very core. Dipper's face was flushed in black and red light, and at once his skin paled to a despairingly horrific white. He had seen the Gravekeeper's true intent too late for him to do anything about it, and helplessness and guilt gave his psyche a second and fatal blow. He started mumbling quickly, repeating himself while sitting there, trembling. He reached out for the gun with one hand while he shakily fished out the bullet from his pocket. Dipper loaded the gun, tears running down his face, and at once pulled the gun to his head, and squeezed the trigger.

The clear crashing bang reverberated through the void Wendy was floating in once more. The vision had all but lasted ten horrible, eternal seconds, but replayed itself again and again in her mind, each time with minutely better detail. The last time it played, she saw a head pop up from below the platform boards, at the trunk of the tree, and turn right when Dipper had started to aim the weapon at himself.

"Oh God, no. Please, no." Wendy knew who it had to be. Not her. Anyone but her. "Oh God, no..." she sobbed pathetically. "He's dead. Oh God, Dipper fucking did it. He killed himself." She couldn't lift her arms to wipe away tears. "Why was I so stupid? He must've thought that he sent me here and... Dipper... oh God, *Dipper*. Why?"

Her question was relayed to the dark heaven she was in, and again, nothing but the two sounds answered back. They had morphed from chirping to a quicker, beeping pace and from cranking to mechanical creaking. Alone, Wendy mourned. She could see Mabel cradling her dead twin in her arms, guilt and pain being passed onto her like a twisted hand-me-down. Much like how Wendy's hat was now that it was covered in blood and brain tissue. It was too much. Wendy simpered and sobbed and let the tears run and drop down the bottomless pit she was in. The grief was all-consuming, and the tendrils of darkness infiltrated her entire being until Wendy faded out into a personal oblivion, dragging the vision down with her.

She disregarded the prick of light until it was too great to ignore its purity, and turned her head. Colors were blending together and pooled into simple shapes, which themselves coalesced to forms. The forms were unnameable for Wendy at first, but they soon took on titles. Door. Window. Chair. Table. Tube. Machines. Curtain. Blanket.

Just what was going on?

"Well, hello there!"

She blinked several times, and a man's head came into view after she felt a gentle hand push her head back up. Wendy met his gaze with poor focus on her end, as he blurred and doubled before her, yet the man, who was wearing a white coat and a name tag, still appeared beyond interested in her trying.

"Looks like you're starting to come back to us." He smiled. "Your friends and family will be very happy to hear that." A pause. "You *do* understand what I'm saying, right? Nod if you understand?"

Wendy found herself nodding dumbly; She understood the words this man was saying, but that was the full extent of what she knew witnessing this nonsensical afterlife. Focusing on anything was the hardest challenge yet as the man smiled and began to fidget with strange objects and devices, even when he got up in her face to flash light directly into her eyes. It was as though this new reality was one where she was heavily drugged, perhaps as part of some eternal punishment, and maintaining coherent thought was an immense challenge. Wendy, whose eyelids were drooping considerably, snapped her eyes wide open when her mind, slowed as it was, made its connection back to Dipper. She tried to sit up, but her ethereal form failed to respond again, and she drowsily noted two things: Some external force was keeping her in this position, and, for the first time since she died, her body felt very heavy.

The man noticed her feeble attempt, and placed a hand on her right shoulder. "It's okay, Wendy. You're in safe hands now. A, uh, hospital, actually. You've been out for over two-and-a-half weeks now because of a bad car crash you were in."

Wendy couldn't believe what she was hearing, and struggled to say something, anything, but her throat burned with pain and all she could vocalize was a moan. The man smiled apologetically and brought several fingers to the tube coming out of her throat.

"I'm sorry, but you won't be able to say too much with this big ol' breathing tube in the way. Had it out for a while, but then you got pretty sick and needed it again. You're almost better, though, so we should see that and the feeding tube coming out ASAP."

Wendy tried to move her body once more, this time combining it with the most agitated moan her drug-sogged consciousness could manage when an unbearable ache pounded through her arm and left side. She was starting to become irritated that her mind simply wasn't working, let alone her body. Dipper was her primary focus in those fleeting moments where she could hold that recollection of his horrified expression as he pulled the gun to his head, and every time it flashed in her mind she was grief-stricken as much as the chemicals pulsing through her allowed.

"Like I said Wendy, your friends and family will be so, so happy to see you getting better. I-I mean, it'll take months, maybe a year, before you'll be considered fully recovered, but after seeing you the way you were and having your condition fluctuate so wildly, they're going to be overjoyed that you're going to stick around after all. Sure are one hell of a fighter."

Wendy's vision cleared, and the mental fog lifted just long enough for her to register the name tag the glasses-wearing blonde man had affixed: Norman Harrison. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming, or if this was the hellish reality her soul had to now endure, but her mind was growing dim as the powerful urge to sleep took hold and she allowed her eyes to start closing.

"Going back to sleep so soon?" Harrison kept on smiling. "It's cool. You'll need your rest to mend all those broken bones of yours. It's about lights out anyway." Wendy could barely hear him chuckle as her consciousness slipped away. "Have a good night, Wendy."

Another wave of the endless, dark void crashed into every neuron and snuffed out all feeling and memory from Wendy's being. She was and she wasn't. Time didn't matter here. And the time spent in this pitch black was at once an eternity and and instant. Light prodded its way through, and soon enough, the mute and eerie nothingscape began to give way to sound. Meaningless, simple noises at first, then ones with a familiar sense of rhythm and cadence.

"Wendy, can you hear me? Are you there?"

"Dude, I don't think she can hear us right now. Wendy kinda zonked out on us this morning. Upset her dad a lot. I doubt she has any idea where she is."

Heavy eyelids were made to laboriously splay themselves open, and Wendy focused in to the taller, pale man, and locked her defiant eyes on him. Like hell she can't hear them. He was taken aback, and silently retracted his statement. The name of this man trickled into Wendy's expanding awareness: Robbie. She softened her gaze upon recognition before switching over to the younger teenager in the room, searching for a name to connect that face to. It was frustrating having to rely solely on her eyes to communicate and wished that she didn't have these damn tubes obstructing her throat. The muscles in her face twitched into a quizzical formation.

"Wendy, what's wrong?" The younger teen bit at his lower lip. "Don't you recognize me?"

"Wear your hat, dweeb!" Robbie nudged the younger man hard in his side. "She probably has that Sacks thing going on."

"Robbie, I don't think you know what you're talking about when you say 'Sacks thing'. Because first of all-"

"Just wear the damn hat, stupid!"

"Okay, but I'm just saying that's not how it goes!"

The boy went to the other side of the bed, reached over and put on the hat Wendy had all but forgotten seeing when she first awoken. Somehow, the hat kick-started some sort of recall, and the instant she found his name, her eyes widened. It was Dipper sitting there before her! At first she couldn't believe it. He was supposed to be dead. Yet after looking at her breathing, healthy friend long enough, logic and reality won out. Dipper was alive! More so, *she was alive*!

The suddenness of her joyful tears alarmed her two friends, and their concerns piled on each other.

"What's wrong, Wendy?"  
"Are you in pain?"  
"Hey, it's okay. You're safe."  
"Are you hurting anywhere?"  
"It's okay if you're scared."  
"It's alright."  
"Do you want us to call a nurse in for you?"

Muscles dusty from under-use began to work as they tried to lift Wendy's body up from her bed, derailing these series of statements towards another.

"No, Wendy."  
"Woah, calm down!"  
"Don't force yourself!"  
"You need to rest."  
"You're still very hurt."  
"Just lie back down."  
"It's okay! It's okay!"

Wendy couldn't exactly comprehend these pleads and struggled weakly to sit herself up, even if the straps around her arms made it impossible to do more than jerk her torso upward. Her frustration intensified; she could neither speak nor move, all because of these objects that were either blocking or restraining her. She wanted to hug Dipper! He was standing there, breathing and alive. She gave up once exhaustion hit, so tired the ventilator nearly had to switch to automatic. She weakly clawed at the sheets. A sharp pain jolted through a nerve in her bounded left arm that twisted a frown out of her. A light touch from Dipper's fingers grazed her wrist, and she clumsily attacked and held his hand with a tight grip. It was full of warmth, and Wendy felt his pulse throb against her fingers. It was enough to have Wendy smile through the massive tube. Dipper was here, and she was alive with him. That was all that mattered.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I probably mentioned this several times before, but I'm very interested in taking this fic and turning it into an original work, so I'd like to open up, for anyone interested, a conversation on what worked in this fic, what didn't, stuff I can improve on, and so forth. You guys can find me on Tumblr as neurogabu, or you can comment below on these things. It'd be such a massive help to hear what you guys think on a more technical level. I really loved writing this fic. Never expected it to get this long, and I was deeply afraid that the longer it got the more weeaboo emo trash it'd get like some of my old fics of yore that have since been nuked out of existence, but I ended up being really glad with the results. I mean I'm writing another fic based on this one, had things been the way they seemed and things took a different course, and there are smaller nuggets I want to jot down as well!
> 
> One thing I could have done better though was I could have been much better at churning out the "outside story", so to speak, but I don't think people got the pastebin URLs from within the story itself. Kinda hope that, with this original novel, I could at least try again on that. The very least I could do for this fic is finish up and post the rest of what I have and get those codes in there, though. Again, tell me what you think about this idea, as the idea of having interactivity in reading really fascinates me and I want to do something with that.
> 
> So yeah. Funny how I never really say anything when I post chapters unless it's the very first or the very last ones.
> 
> And so, I present to you, the final chapter!

"Hey, Wendy. Can you see the TV alright?"

"Totally, Soos. Gotta ton of pillows pl-propping me up."

Wendy was very happy that she was back home, even if she still had to be housebound while she slowly regained her strength. She had been hooked up to machines and IVs and hospital rules and schedules bouncing from some sort of therapy to absolutely nothing for so long it had started to take a toll on her sanity; Case in point, she didn't mind in the slightest having to pop pills to keep the nerve pain in her arm down. She groused more about still having memory and mouth problems, even if she was doing miles better than she had first waking up and getting all those tubes taken out. Wendy hated having to rely on a notebook as a surrogate, and those moments where speech devolved into some soupy mess was annoying. Eating was a clumsy, pathetic nightmare. It made her feel useless and very down on herself. Yet with time and her friends' encouragements, as well as her inner defiance, she got to where she was now laying, and she surmised that, if anything, she was ahead in those departments of her recovery than most people.

Wendy let herself sink into the giant pile of pillows and stretched her legs for a good, long time, then relaxed wholly and turned to Dipper and Mabel.

"Man, it's great that we got this m-movie night together before you guys have to go back home for the summer."

"We didn't want to hold it without you." Mabel grinned. "You're, like, a guest of honor or something!"

"I don't think anyone can be a guest of honor if an event's being held at their place, Mabel." Dipper pointed out as he helped Soos to hook up a DVD player to an outdated CRT television. "I mean that's not to say Wendy's not important, but, uhh, I mean that she...we... we planned this night for the first night we got here, but... you know. Stuff happened..."

Dipper trailed off save for an awkward laugh. Wendy could tell the thought of that day made her friend deeply uneasy. Wobbly words tumbled on out. "Hey, Dipper. It's cool. Trust me when I say that I was very l-lucky to come out of that as I did. And it wouldn't have been possisble in the first place without your crazy lack of fear running towards a flaming car. Seriously, thanks."

Dipper smiled softly with his eyes. "That's true. You're welcome..."

Wendy stiffly sat herself up, taking care not to bend her ribcage too much. "Anyway, I gotta use the bathroom." She swung her legs over and, once Mabel handed Wendy her crutch, she stood up and shambled towards her bedroom door. "Just a warning, I might take a while."

"No problem, Wendy." Soos chuckled. "It'll take a while to figure out how to connect these things together. Take all the time you need!"

Wendy nodded with a smile and proceeded to limp to the bathroom, nodding to her Dad from across the hall and indicating that she had this before he could rise to his feet. True to her word, she did need to take a while, minding still-mending injuries, all one-handed. After washing up and drying off, Wendy carefully studied the thick brace that affixed her bad arm across her chest in the mirror, soon trailing her eyes upward to the tracheotomy scar in her neck.

All things considered, Wendy knew this and her other scars were going to be rad as hell explaining in the grand scheme of things. 

An icy twinge traveled down her shoulder, and Wendy ballooned her cheeks up as the ensuing pain scraped on through until it left the appendage numb. She grabbed the crutch and shuffled to the door with a surprising deftness necessary for speeding towards a bottle of pills, but had to stop when she opened the door wide and Dipper was there, just off to the side, wringing his hands. The two jumped, though Wendy was the one to regain balance first.

"Woah. Were you waiting for me?"

"What? No! Wh-what are you talking about? I'm not following you or anything like that!" Dipper's voice was wavery, indicating that it was exactly what he was doing, although with the way he was chewing at the inside of his cheek, something was definitely up. Wendy decided that her need to dull the pain could hold tight for a bit.

"Hey, do we need to talk? You got that look on your face."

"...Yeah. Yeah we do. Just us."

Wendy nodded, and settled herself down onto the toilet seat. "Alright then. Shoot."

Dipper quietly closed the bathroom door behind him and sat himself down on the bathtub ledge. "Well, I'm pretty sure you know what the general topic is going to be... do you?"

"Dude." Wendy nudged Dipper with the handle of the crutch. "My memory's not *that* terrible. Pretty sure you're talking about the accident, right?"

"Yeah." Dipper ran a hand through his hair. "I mean I've just been doing a ton of thinking about it. Like, so much it's amazing when I can think about anything else." Dipper made himself chuckle before returning to skittishness. "But yeah. Just everything that happened put life into perspective and it's freaky."

"Life into persp...spective?" Wendy laughed. "You're not going to put me to sleep on how life is a beautiful and fragile thing and all that stuff? Everything happens for a cosmic reason mumbo jumbo?"

Dipper scoffed. "Nah. Can be weird and all, but that's just that. Though, and I want to say beforehand that I wanted to wait until you'd have a good chance of remembering, things did... happen that day."

"Oh?" Wendy raised an eyebrow. "What kind of things, Dipper?"

"You don't remember?" Wendy shook her head, and Dipper was made to explain. "Well, I got to the hospital in the first place because your Dad drove himself to the scene and asked if I wanted to come along. And, uh..."

Wendy ribbed Dipper with her crutch a second time. "C'mon, man."

"It was the worst moment in my life, though..." Dipper cleared his throat nervously, wanting to buy more time before he finally fessed up. "A doctor came up to us and said that you died."

"Wait, *died*?" Wendy had to think, and she could just vaguely start to remember people telling her this fact before. Why it never quite stuck was a mystery, but what was new this time around was how this information triggered something foggy in her mind.

"He said they couldn't restart your heartbeat. That they did everything. And it was.... just..." Dipper heaved out a heavy, hitched sigh. "I never told you, but it was the worst two or three minutes in my life ever."

Words slowly dribbled out. "Did they make a m-mis-mistake or something?"

"No... no. It sounded like those were being pretty accurate. I don't get it myself, but it sounds like there was enough of an electrical charge in your heart and enough medicine entered it that it restarted or something? Harrison said something about atropine, I don't know. They came back and said you were alive and it was so confusing I wanted to barf." Dipper sighed again. "But I guess it was almost like you wanted to stay or something, you know?"

Dipper turned to Wendy, expecting an immediate answer back. Anything, even some jokey, snarky remark would have been par, but Wendy was staring dreamily at the bathroom tile.

"Wendy?" He shoved a hand into her line of sight and snapped his fingers. "Hey, are you alright?"

She turned her head as though Dipper had just appeared to her. "What? Oh. Yeah, Dipper. Just got me thinking now. So thanks for spr-speading your thinking germs to me." Wendy jested.

"No problem." Dipper joked back. "What happened?"

"Dipper... what's it called when you alm...alm..." Wendy flashed an annoyed frown. "--nearly die but you can, like, see yourself floating above yourself and seeing doctors trying to save you and stuff?"

"Near-death experience?"

"Yeah, that. I had that. Didn't see myself get revived, though. Prob'ly lost too much ox...air." Wendy chuckled.

"Oh, wow. D-do you remember feeling at peace or anything?"

"Dude. I was trying to punch myself in the chest. Was totally at the compete... complete opposite of peace there."

Dipper flashed a hesitant, unsure smile, and himself becoming trapped in the enamel white of the tile floor. Wendy waited for Dipper to continue while her body started another round of loud complaining, and after licking his lips and several false starts, went for it.

"The dream you keep mentioning almost feels like a completely eerie future that could have happened. And it almost did. I wasn't sure what I was going to do if the worst did happen, except blame myself to hell and back forever." Dipper twiddled his thumbs and chuckled while standing on the edge of internal panic. "Thankfully, it didn't, and I have figured out since then it wouldn't have been my fault."

"Well, that's good, at least."

"Yeah, though it still doesn't erase the fact that I keep having nightmares." Dipper paled a little. "Those... have been gnawing at my sanity."

"Aw, damn, dude. Why didn't you tell me that sooner?"

"Well, uh," Dipper brushed his fingers through his hair. "I have, but, you know, the whole memory impairment thing."

Wendy nodded. "I get it." She then creaked her body forward and placed her good hand on Dipper's shoulder. "Hey, Dipper, if it makes you feel any better, I think I have an ind-increb...big fear of cars now. Like, you cannot believe how close I was to d-downr-right panipcking on the ride home."

Dipper frowned a little, and his voice went into that awkward, sympathetic lilt. "Oh, God, Wendy. I'm really sorry to hear that."

Wendy shrugged and ignored a twinge of pain that shot down her arm. "Hey, at least we can be a couple of traumamiz-tized dorks together, you know what I'm sayin'?"

"Hah, yeah." Dipper relaxed. "Thanks for not dying, by the way."

"No problem, man. Wasn't gonna let one of my best buds get all messed up anytime soon." Wendy laughed, which in turn made Dipper snicker.

"So do you wanna head on back now?"

"Yes. Please." Wendy stood up. "My arm's starting to kill me. I need to shut it up with intense painkillers."

"Oh, jeez. Think you're going to have to get surgery done on that?"

"Already scheduled for two weeks from now. Hopefully it goes well and I can start using it again."

"Sure hope it does."

Wendy let Dipper help guide her back to her room, despite not really needing the assistance. Soos and Mabel were proudly basking in the fruits of their labor as the TV displayed the input from the freakish connection to the DVD player. The painkillers were hastily taken, and Wendy went to lay back down in her massive pile of puffy pillows.

"So, we ready to start this carnage?" Wendy asked with a devilish grin.

"As ready as we'll ever be!" Mabel shouted out.

"Yep!" Soos agreed, then a flash of realization hit him. "Oh dudes, we're all here now! I can totally show you guys that surprise now!" He pulled out a photo and showed the trio.

"No way! Soos!" Mabel hugged the big man. "Congratulations!"

"Really?!" Dipper beamed. "You and Melody are getting married?! That is amazing!"

"Nice, Soos. Always thought you two'd get hitched."

"Yeah! Now I can finally put the announcement up online! I wanted you guys to know first and foremost, and I couldn't go back on the promise of telling you all at once."

"Aw, thanks, Soos."

The four eventually settled down and the first of several movies started. Dipper and Wendy made fun of the first actor to appear on-screen almost immediately, their riffing senses as sharp as ever. Wendy slowly grew drowsy from the painkillers, but it mattered little, as being surrounded by happy friends gave her the will to fight off sleep up until she drifted off contentedly near the end of the final film, but not before having her good hand reach over the side of her bed and ruffle the brown hair of a dear friend.

It was good to have friends that'd be able to pull through for her and end up stronger on the other side. After all, isn't that how friendships grow stronger in the first place?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end
> 
> \---

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [If It's the Last Thing That I Do](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5809219) by [Gabu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabu/pseuds/Gabu)




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